{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3623", "width": "2152", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3511", "width": "1985", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3531", "width": "1955", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3521", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3536", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3521", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3536", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3521", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "THE\\nPLUME;\\nA TUFT OF LITERARY FEATHERS.\\nBy JOHN H. WARLAND.\\nTake ye this Plume of mine, faithful warriors of the cross, who do\\nbattle for righteousness and humanity s sake. Its bright feathers shall\\nbe tell-tales of my exceeding gladness at your victories\u00e2\u0080\u0094 its darker hues\\nshall be symbols of my sorrows if you fall. Whatever fortune betide\\nye, and light upon your plume, the down of its feathers shall be as the\\nlove of my heart for your endeavors and chivalrous bearing in the fight\\nfor the cross. De Lisle to the Crusaders.\\nBOSTON:\\nBENJAMIN B. MUSSEY,\\nNo. 29 CORNHILL.\\n1847.", "height": "3536", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "I \u00c2\u00a3)bo\\nI\\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846,\\nBy Benjamin Adams,\\nin the Clerk s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.\\nA. B. Kidder, Printer, 7 Cornhill.", "height": "3521", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "I TO JOSEPH T. BUCKINGHAM, Esq.,\\nTHE NESTOR OF THE NEW ENGLAND PRESS,\\nTHIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED,\\nV/nri 8EST1MKNTS OF SINCKKE REGARD AND FRIENDSHIP,\\nI BY ONE OF THE YOUNGER MEMBERS\\nOF THE EDITORIAL FRATERNITY.", "height": "3536", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3521", "width": "1899", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTORY.\\nt\\nDull and plodding, almost to a proverb, as the life of\\nan editor in the country is, there are yet some springs\\nof en oyment open to him which are closed to the more\\nbusy actors in the scenes around him. Though buried\\nfor weeks, months and years, within his little room, and\\nbut seldom holding communion with the great world i\\nwithout, except through his little hebdomedal, he need\\nnot murmur at his seclusion, if he will but sound the right\\nnote upon his heart and his mind. What though his own\\nlife present but little incident in itself, calculated to in-\\nterest those who tread the great thoroughfares of the\\nworld Is he not in a position, if he will but avail himself\\nof it, to become a spectator and recorder of heart-stirring\\nscenes in the lives of others Life, indeed, appears to\\nhim under a thousand different phases, which pass un-\\nobserved by his little family of readers. He is an\\neye-witness of scenes of absorbing interest, and notes\\nthem down while yet fresh in his memory, to become the\\n4-", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "Vi INTRODUCTORY.\\npleasant theme of his thoughts, when he would while\\naway the leisure hours which the pauses in the political\\nstorm afford. Thus, in the columns of his paper, he is\\nthe politician, the preacher, the sketcher of the times,\\nthe biographer and the moralist. He kills off the actors\\nupon the stage of the world under his obituary, and mar-\\nries them under his hymenial, head. In a word, he walks\\nabroad in his little kingdom, both as king and subject,\\nfor while he rules and directs public opinion, he is yet\\nthe creature of the same omnipotent sovereign.\\nIt has been my habit, while seated upon my tripod in\\nthe country, to look abroad from the loophole of my\\nretreat upon the busy world without, and note down such\\npassages in every day life as possessed any interest for a\\nretired student like myself. As I have been somewhat\\nbusy in this way, I have quite a collection of shreds and\\npatches, prosaics and poetics, some of which I propose to\\ngive the public in the same unambitious style in which\\nI they were recorded while fresh in my recollection. It is\\npossible the reader may have seen some of them before.\\nI will not conceal the pleasure which I have felt, at times,\\nwhen 1 have observed sketches that have appeared in\\nI my humble journal, sailing along the newspaporial sea,\\nand travelling even beyond the water to other shores.\\nWhen I have seen lionored names attached to some of\\nthem, I have complained not. I have rather felt gratified\\nthat, by attracting more attention, they would do more\\ngood than if boine up only by ray own humble name. I", "height": "3516", "width": "1889", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTORY.\\nwould shine in no borrowed plumes, and if they have been\\nfeathers in the caps of others, I have been gratified so far\\nas they have touched the heart or imagination in the right\\nspot. But, although several of the articles in this volume\\nmay have come under the observation of the reader, he is\\nassured that a la i e pt rtion of them have never before\\nappeared in print, indeed not one of them all as they are\\nnow presented to him.\\nAs its name imports, this book is a tuft of literary feath-\\ners, of various shades and colors, the dark ones expres-\\nsive of moments of sorrow, and the bright of those of\\ng\\\\: d less and joy. Happiness and moral purity are the\\ngreat ends of existence, and if the heart can be made\\nbetter, cither through a smile or a tear, it is well all\\nwell. So the prize be won, what matters it, how the\\nweapon receive its polish, or with what metal its blade\\nbe tempered? The Plume which I here present to the\\nreader, is not itself, it is true, the nodding plume of the\\nwarrior, but I may express the hope that it will never be\\nthe occasion of nodding in others. I am sure that no\\nfeather, which it contains, will be found, when applied to\\nthe cheek of delicacy, gentleness and refinement, to raise\\nany other tlian an innocent blush or a praiseworthy emo-\\ntion.\\nI must add, however, that there are a few lines in the\\nvolume which I wish that I could erase one brief poeti-\\ncal article, and three stanzas in another of the same class.\\n1 ;im afraid they may give pain in a quarter where I would\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24-", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "via\\nINTRODUCTORY.\\nbe the last to inflict pain. Inasmuch, however, as the\\nsecret can be known only to the writer and those who are\\naimed at, I indulge the hope that this explanation will\\nbe received by them as an ample atonement.\\nIn conclusion, let me observe, that should this volume\\nmeet with tolerable success, it will shortly be followed\\nby others of a similar character and tendency.\\n4-\\n4-", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nIntroductory, 5\\nThe Genius of the Library, 13\\nDream of the Dying Undying One, 29\\nTimes Day Book and Ledger, 34\\nThe Butterfly to the Dying Child, 53\\nTo A Miniature, 56\\nThe Antlers, 57\\nONG OF THE AnGEL OF THE FlOWERS, 61\\nThe Devil among the books, 66\\nVoice of the Mountain Brook, 92\\nThe Missing Star, 94\\nThe Western Mounds, 96\\nClara Revere, the little Blind Girl,\\n(With a Plate,) 99\\nSong of the Blind Girl, 107\\nThe Triumphs of Labor, US\\nLay of the Soldier s Bride, 120\\nThe Death of Wolfe, 122\\nThe first Robin of Spring, 123\\nA Short Chapter on Long Ears, 126\\nKate and Will, 131\\nA Rare Visitor, 135\\nAlbum Verses, 155\\nAn Essay on Garretts, 159\\nTom Skinflint, 176\\nThe Loved and Lost, 181\\nI WOULD not live alway, 182\\nThe Mother to her first born, 185\\nI have loved thee on earth, may I meet\\nthee in heaven, 198\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24*-", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "-5^\\nX CONTENTS.\\nThk Orphans, 199\\nThey say he is another s now, 203\\nMrs. Nicely s System of Economy, 206\\nApril and June, 209\\nTrfE Mountaineer, 212\\nOn Visiting a Grave, 213\\nTo Mary, 215\\nEditorial Comforts, (With a Plate,) 218\\nScene in the Editorial Sanctum, 221\\nLines to a Cucumber, 226\\nThe Small-nosed Man to His Nose, 229\\nA Coterie of Tea-pot Ladies, 236\\nThe Heart that s true, 240\\nAnswer to the Old Arm Chair, 241\\nA Thanksgiving Editorial, 243\\nThe New-Englander abroad at thought of\\nHIS Thanksgiving Home, 252\\nTo Sybil, 255\\nThe Ice-King and the King of the Thaw, 257\\nThe Royal Duett, 260\\nThe Boblink, 267\\nto one who cannot understand it, 270\\nCome, Brothers, Come! 272\\nA Glimpse of the Sweet-Named, 273\\nDitto seen through Glasses, 275\\nascutney, 276\\nA VERY Clever Fellow, But 279\\nThe Teazle Family, 284\\nTemperance Hymn, 290\\nChronicle of the Bennington Gun, 292\\nDo. Chapter H. 299\\nThe Star in the East, 308\\n,4-", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "THE PLUME.\\nTHE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY.\\nOne cold, dreaiy, and drizzly afternoon in au-\\ntumn, some years ago, I found myself in one of\\nthe proudest cities of the old world, threading its\\ncircuitous streets and alleys, with the view of pass-\\ning the remainder of an exceedingly uncomfortable\\nday in one of the largest libraries of Europe. I\\nwas led to this place more from curiosity than any\\nother motive, and determined for the time to shut\\nout the noise and turmoil of the world. Let it\\nrain, blow, and drizzle, said I to myself, let\\nthe clouds gather above, and the sky become low-\\nering and dark; here, at least, within this sanctu-\\nary of great and good minds, it shall be all bright\\nsunshine to a weary traveler like myself. The\\nshadows of evenino^ were fallino- thick and fast, much\\nearlier than usual, and I feared that I should not i\\nbe able to look into any of the numerous volumes I\\nbefore candle-light. As soon, however, as the li-\\nbrarian had pointed me to an old arm-chair, which, i\\n2 I", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "I\\n14 THE PLUME.\\nfrom its dimensions, might have held a fat abbot\\nand three or four spare and lean monks, I took an\\nold, musty, cobweb-covered folio from a shelf, and,\\nseating myself in the farthest alcove of the apart-\\nment, was soon lost in deciphering its strange and\\nantique characters. The volume was written by\\none of those patient scholars, and sharp contro-\\nversialists in metaphysics, who wielded their pens\\nagainst false systems of philosophy, whose names\\nhave now passed away, or are known only to the\\nstudent, and whom it is the fashion for modern\\nwriters of the same school to decry, as having\\nadded nothing to the sum of human knowledge.\\nI insensibly found myself giving utterance to my\\nthouofhts, now in the languao-e of the old, and al-\\nmost forgotten philosopher, and now in my own.\\nYes! true it is, old Patriarch! thou sayest\\nwell! Miserable miserable, indeed, should we\\nbe, if what thy antagonist asserts were true. Let\\nnot the world contemn thee and thy host of follow-\\ners, who consumed their days and nights in bat-\\ntling it with those vain sophists, who think death\\nputs an end to our spiritual as well as our physical\\nbeing. Thou hast fought the battle manfully and\\nwell Mid all this ocean of words, sharp and\\nkeen though they be, thou hast fathomed the\\ndepths of the soul, and, diving into the heart of\\nman, hast brought up that imperishable jewel\\nTruth. The mind die The soul suffer annihila-", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY.\\ntion! Well dost thou write, AH nature cries out\\nagainst it! Well dost thou say to thy opponent,\\nThou art thyself a refutation of what thou dost\\naver. The demigods of the heathen world, the\\nsages and philosophers of a remote age, ay, and\\nthe untutored child that roams the wilderness, have\\nembraced, as it were by intuition, what thou in thy\\nblindness wilt not grasp, although the morning-\\nstar of Revelation has beamed upon thy vision.\\nPlato, Socrates, and Cicero knew the glorious\\ntruth and thou, vain reasoner, deniest it The\\nthousand rushing waters of the earth make it the\\nburthen of their ever-rolling anthem. The birds\\nat morn and eve proclaim it with their sweetest\\nsono-. It comes to us on the wings of the breeze,\\nin the air, and it is written in undying lines\\nupon the blue sky above us. Every living thing\\nsends back a thrilling response to the involuntary\\nexclamation that comes from the hearts of myriads\\nof human beings We live hereafter! And\\nwho art thou, pretender to wisdom! that proclaim-\\nest thyself a light in a dark age, and wouldst teach\\nthe nations of the earth that they will die, and go,\\nwith no torch to light them, to their tomb with\\nno ray to illumine the darkness and make bright\\nthe path onward to Eternity? Canst thou shut\\nout the light that every thing sends to thee? Life\\nhereafter! If Reason unfolded the glorious truth\\nto a few of the mighty ones of the heathen world.", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "16 THE PLUME.\\nto the Hindoo, as well as to the Grecian and Ro-\\nman sage, thinkest thou to sit in thy dark cell and\\npersuade man that it is all a dazzling dream?\\nOpen thine ears to the glad tidings that are break-\\ning the shackles which have kept the mind so long\\nin bondage. Hearken to that burst of praise and\\nsong, which will sound in the remotest corners of\\nthe earth! Away! vain sophist! Know est thou\\nnot that the Creator would not suffer the sublime\\nTruth, which thou art assailing, to die away, or\\nbe hid by all the subtleties which thou and thy dis-\\nciples can weave around it? Look! the light of\\nRevelation is sending its beams into the darkest\\ncell, and writing the golden truth upon its walls!\\nOpen thine eyes, then, curious, but misnamed\\nReasoner Its radiance is streaming from a\\nthousand points, and showing the world every film\\nof thy fine-spun and unsubstantial subtleties.\\nRise up, shake off thy false philosophy, and em-\\nbrace the Truth ere thou dost die!\\nThus, in almost the language of one of those\\ncontroversialists of the middle ages, to whom I\\nhave alluded, did I involuntarily give utterance to\\nray thoughts. There are subjects, that will for a\\ntime lock up the senses, and make the man a mere\\npassive being. Among them are those themes, the\\ngrandest that dwell upon our lips, which concern\\nour immortal destinies, and have the power of\\ncurbing and guiding the thoughts in unison with\\n4-", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY. 17\\nthem, and making the will their slave. So it was\\nwith me, as I was following this old reasoner,\\nwhose words at once went to the heart, and buried\\nthemselves in the inmost recesses of the mind.\\nMy eyes were fixed, absorbed as I was in thought,\\nupon something, indistinct in the distance and twi-\\nlight, at the farthest side of the library, with an in-\\ntensity and earnestness of gaze like that of Ham-\\nlet, when, for the first time, the semblance of his\\nfather comes upon his vision. A sound like the\\nsliding of folding-doors came to my ears; the al-\\ncoves widened and grew larger, expanding and\\nspreading away as far as the eye could reach, as\\nif obeying the potent touch of a magician s wand.\\nThe volumes, also, seemed to increase in size, and\\nthe names upon their backs appeared as if seen\\nthrough a magnifying glass, glowing and sparkling\\nas if written with fire. At different points be-\\ntween the two longest sides of the apartment,\\nwere placed, on marble pedestals as white as snow,\\nthe sculptured forms of the Muses, and of some of\\nthose mighty ones whom nations have delighted to\\nhonor. And, above all, I was struck with a rep-\\nresentation of Fame, bearing in one hand a white\\nscroll, and raising with the other a trump to her\\nbreathing lips. These forms seemed instinct with\\nlife, as they gazed with rapture and admiration up-\\non the immortal volumes around them; and, as a\\nI mellow and golden light diffused itself around upon\\nI 2* I", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "18 THE PLUME.\\nthe various objects, the whole scene realized my\\nconception of the magnificence of a fairy palace in\\neastern romance.\\nAs I sat musing and wondering at the novelty\\nof the scene, I for the first time observed that a\\nfigure was approaching me from the farthest side\\nof the apartment. He bore an old parchment vol-\\nume under his arm, and leaned upon something\\nthat resembled an enchanter s wand. His dress\\nwas in the fashion of a remote age, over which was\\ncarelessly thrown a loose, flowing mantle. Al-\\nthough his beard was long and white, and he was\\narrayed in garments that might give one of thirty\\nthe appearance of fourscore, yet, tottering as he\\nwas, and leaning now and then upon his wand,\\nthere was a youthfulness and vigor in his whole\\nappearance, and a fire in his eye, which old age,\\nwith its silver locks and crutch, but rarely exhib-\\nits. I took him for some one of those, who are in\\nthe habit of passing their days in the libraries of\\nEurope one of those venerable scholars of which\\nthe country affords so many, who ponder for years\\nover the red-letter folios of a by-gone age, and\\nseem coeval with the volumes they study to\\nwhom Time has forgotten to issue his summons.\\nI was about to rise to offer him the old arm-chair,\\nbut he waved his hand that I should keep my seat.\\nYou seem, said I, to be one who may have\\nseen this immense library growing up, volume af-", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY. 19 J\\nter volume, under your eye, and may have num-\\nbered among your personal friends many who have\\nrecorded their names upon the scroll of Fame.\\nAy! you may say that, replied the figure;\\ncenturies have gone by since the first volume\\nwas placed here, and 1 was by to record its name.\\nIt is this which I hold in my hand. I have seen\\ngenerations pass away and m.en grow old, but I\\n1 grow younger as Time rolls over my head. My\\nhome is in this Library this monument of ban-\\nished minds. I imparted to Faust and his co-work-\\ners the first idea of that invention which has im-\\nmortalized their names, and wrought such a won-\\nderful change in the condition of the world. 1 was\\nwith Caxton and Wynkin de Worde, in England;\\nI rescued many volumes from the fire at Alexan-\\ndria, and searched into monastic cells and monas-\\nteries, for the precious manuscripts, upon which\\nthe poor monks, in their blind zeal, copied out\\ntheir missals. You see around you the result of\\nmy labors. I am the guardian of the place the\\nGenius of the Library.\\nMy thoughts went back to the period he men-\\ntioned; and, as my imagination followed him in\\nhis sublime undertaking, I could not help reflect-\\ning upon the toil and suffering, the anxious days\\nand niofhts to which the countless volumes around\\nus had given birth.\\nWhat hours of pain and suffering, I ex-", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "20 THE PLUMB.\\nclaimed, have been passed in the composition of\\nthese ponderous tomes But what a bahn to many\\na wounded spirit have they afforded The lonely\\nstudent has pored over the volumes with aching\\neyes and a breaking heart. He pressed not his pil-\\nlow by night, and the blessed beams of the morn-\\nins brought no refreshment to his burningj brow.\\nAnd all this for Fame to be read and remembered\\nwhen the eloquent lip is mute, and the heart can\\nache and beat no longer. Fame thou art a daz-\\nzling, splendid cheat Thou makest fools of the\\nwise and gray-headed. We grasp at thee, but\\nthou art not there. Thou whisperest to the young,\\nand they see a Paradise beyond, which is still be-\\nyond, the farther the youthful aspirant travels up-\\non the road. How few are the springs upon the\\nway-side, where he may stoop and cool his parched\\nlip. Thou lurest us on, making our existence ap-\\npear a splendid dream, promising us that happi-\\nness, which we might acquire from more lasting\\nand substantial things. And then, how much\\ngreater the fall how much more bitter the dis-\\nappointment I Why should we follow and pant\\nafter thee up the hill whither thou wouldst lead us.\\nWhat is there in living in the memory of men,\\nages after we have mouldered in the dust, that we\\nshould so thirst and long for it? Vain, vain is it\\nall Our own minds and hearts contain the only\\ntrue and unfailing springs of happiness in this", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY. 21\\nworld. That men should not discover these foun-\\ntains and drink deep at them, that, when they\\nknow they may be summoned from the earth and\\nall they hold dear in it, the next day, the next\\nhour, ay, or the next moment they should be so\\nthoughtless of that other hereafter, is one of those\\nmysteries which no knowledge of human nature or\\nof man s constitution can solve. Why then this\\npassion for Fame this longing to be remembered\\nwhen we no longer exist, if we are regardless of\\nwhat we are to be when Time shall be no more I\\nWhy listen with rapture to the strokes of Time,\\nand heed not the peals of Eternity?\\nSolemn and true are thy last words; but man!\\ndespise not, nor contemn Fame and worldly glory.\\nDespise her not, when she would linger around\\nthe grave of Genius. See her here as she stands;\\nread the names that she has enrolled there. Wor-\\nship her, and she will sound thy name to the re-\\nmotest spot on the earth. Open some of the vol-\\numes that you see before you. Here are the\\nworks of one who never dreamed of being known\\nto an after age; who, though dead, yet liveth, to\\ninstruct and enlighten mankind. There are the\\nunfinished volumes of another, who thought to be\\nwelcome to the highest seat in the Temple of Fame,\\nfrom whose mass of chaff not three particles of\\nwheat can be gathered. Well have you painted\\nthe life of many a student of the olden time, whom", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "4-\\n22 THE PLUME.\\nI have found wrapt in bright visions, that were\\nnever to be realized, when I knocked at his hum-\\nble door. True! it cannot be denied! How many\\nbitter disappointments and heart-aches has the\\npoor, care-worn scholar endured, with the hope of\\nhaving his name registered upon the roll of the\\nUndying Ones! 1 see him now in his cell, poring\\nover the huge volume by the midnight taper the\\nhectic flush upon his cheek, and the wild glare of\\nthe mind diseased in his eye. Morning dawns,\\nand finds the poor, exhausted scholar, wrapt in\\nearnestness upon the magic page, or putting down\\nthoughts that he fain would believe will never die.\\nSee him, pale and flushed, lift his bright eye from\\nthe page, wondering if it be not all a dream. But\\nFame hails him on at a distance, sounds her trum-\\npet in his ears, clear, full, and loud, beckoning\\nhim onward to the dazzling prize. He clasps his\\nhands in rapture the lamp burns dim, and dim-\\nmer the characters before him become blurred\\nand unintelligible the light flickers up goes\\nout and the poor fame-cheated student dies un-\\nknown and unpitied in his smoken cell. But has\\nhe not known such moments of happiness as belong\\nrather to the condition of angels than mortals He\\nthirsted for an immortality on earth, and lost the\\nprize. Think not, therefore, his life was all pain\\nand anxiety. He died, believing his name would\\nbe cherished forever. Fame cannot be insured\\n4-", "height": "3501", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY. 23\\nduring the short pilgrimage of her devotee. But\\nis there not the hope she inspires, the joy she dif-\\nfuses, the anticipation and the bracing up of the\\nenergies of the mind which it occasions? These\\njgreate a rapture and enthusiasm, an excitement\\nand activity in the mind and soul, which no charm\\nof wealth and beauty can equal. Did I not hear\\nyou but a moment ago commenting upon that sub-\\nlime truth, The soul shall never die? What\\ncunning sprite held your powers in subjection,\\nthat you did not see that the desire to be remem-\\nbered when you are no more that this very aspi-\\nration is one of the strongest proofs that you will in-\\ndeed live on, when the world is crumbled to atoms?\\nI acknowledge it; but the mere existence of\\nthis thirst for Fame, proves not that she is a\\npraiseworthy object of pursuit. Why should we\\nfret these curious pieces of divine workmanship,\\nwhich enclose a gem that no diamond in the cav-\\nerns of the earth can outshine in splendor? WHiy\\nshould we wear out these frail caskets, only that\\nthis jewel may send forth a beam upon our grave-\\nstones when we are gone, to show our names\\nto the world, and tell it that we once lived?\\nMan, you are in error. Think you that the\\nmartyrs of learning, whose immortal works are\\naround us, enjoyed no happiness, while exerting\\ntheir god-like energies to gain a place upon the\\n1 scroll of Fame?", "height": "3491", "width": "1860", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a24^\\n24 THE PLUME.\\nMartyrs of learning! venerable sir! the bare\\nexpression carries with it the best comment upon\\nwhat you would urge. That great minds, who\\nhave stood forth, the lights of their age, and worn\\nout their powers in poring over the lore of antiqui-\\nty, that they might re-produce it under a more at-\\ntractive form, may have experienced moments of\\nsuch happiness, as falls not to the lot of others, is,\\nnay, must be true; for happiness is the birth-\\nright of the mind, which it cannot lose, while ra-\\ntionally exercising its own powers, whatever the\\nultimate object at which it would grasp. But that\\nthey, who have done all, endured all, and risked\\nall, only that they might be remembered when they\\nare no more, have been as happy as the more de-\\nvout sons of men, whose names were never sound-\\ned by the trump of fame, is a position, which these\\noracles of wisdom, could they speak, would neither\\napprove nor confirm.\\nTo you 1 appeal, he exclaimed, ye speech-\\nless interpreters of the mind! What joy did not\\nthey feel, who sent you into the world, when Fame\\nwhispered her call into their ears, dearer, even,\\nthan the song of the nightingale to the poet of the\\neast, sweeter than his lute to the ravished ear\\nof his bride! What happiness was there in the\\nwide world, like that which they knew, when the\\nMuse touched their lips with the fire of inspiration.\\nWhat was the fevered brow, the burning cheek,", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY. 25\\nay, or the pale lip, to the thought of the glorious\\nhereafter on earth? Ye passed away from the\\nearth, poets, philosophers, and sages, from whose\\nlips thousands of your disciples drank in divine\\nwisdom, sitting at your feet in the hall, and in\\nthe grove by the hallowed stream. Ye passed\\naway, but I have borne the offspring of your\\nminds along the stream of Time, and you now en-\\njoy what your untiring spirits thirsted for, while\\nyour venerable forms were yet on the earth. And\\nso shall it ever be! Wherever the foot of man\\nhas trod, wherever a name is spoken with praise\\nand admiration, there shall your own immortal\\nones be sounded too. I call you to witness, mute\\noracles of wisdom! that they who breathed into\\nyou the breath of life, felt, in their moments of\\ninspiration, such happiness as all the allurements\\nand charms of the world cannot bestow. When\\ntheir perishable frames would have yielded to de-\\ncay and suffering, the heavenly spark within still\\nburned on bright, sending its rays through the fee-\\nble tenement that enshrined it, giving it joy and\\nvitality, and lighting up with smiles the cheeks of\\nmillions, whose very existence, but for you, would\\nhave been a burthen.\\nHe pointed, as he spake, to the volumes in the\\nalcove, in which I was sitting, and I could have\\nlistened to him forever, so impassioned and earnest\\nwas his manner. I hung upon his lips, and drank\\nJ 3", "height": "3491", "width": "1819", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "26 THE PLUME.\\nin their sounds, as if eloquence had steeped them\\nin her honied words. He spoke with an energy\\nalso, that I looked not for in one of his years. A\\nheavenly radiance streamed along the room, and\\nlit up the countenances of the sculptured forms be-\\nfore us with celestial smiles. He wrought up my\\nfeelings to such a degree, that methought I could\\nsee the philosophers and poets of another age,\\nwhom he invoked, coming on at his summons, to\\nrespond to his heart-stirring appeal,\\nTrue! true! I exclaimed, catching a portion\\nof his enthusiasm; true it is, nothing can equal\\nthe happiness of that mind, which exercises its\\npowers for the noblest ends, fulfilling its own high\\ndestinies, and creating joy and love wherever its\\naspirations are breathed, or its influence is felt.\\nLet this be done, then welcome. Fame Wel-\\ncome, with your smiles and tears, your joys and\\nyour sorrows! Welcome to the student s burning\\nand fevered brow, as the morning dews to the ex-\\npanding rose, or the evening breeze to the flushed\\ncheek in midsummer, that is wafted from the bow-\\ners of some paradise beyond.\\nI have roved the earth for centuries, he re-\\nplied; I have seen the rich man luxuriating in\\nall that wealth could give, and the man of rank\\nmaking the suppliant knee bend before him. I\\nhave seen Beauty, splendid and dazzling, draw\\nmurmurs of rapturous applause from the lips of ad-\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6i^-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "THE GENIUS OF THE LIBRARY. 27\\nmiring thousands. But I have seen but one sight\\nso godlike as the scholar, who trims his midnight\\nlamp in his lonely cell, living for the good of oth-\\ners, and therefore best answering the ends of his\\nown being, and thirsting for a lasting and imperish-\\nable name among men. There is one sight, upon\\nwhich I have gazed with equal, if not greater ad-\\nmiration: it is the unlettered and unknown child\\nof adversity, who binds up the wounds of his\\nbruised heart with the holy balm of religion, who\\nlooks into the Book of Books, for support in the\\ndark and trying hour, when he is called to suf-\\nfer unmerited reproach, whose every action is\\ndone under a feeling of responsibility to his God,\\nand whose eye beams up with hope and joy, as it\\nlooks through the dark vista of Time to the bright\\nand glorious prize of immortality beyond. When\\nthe hour comes and come it will that Fame\\nwill be but the herald of immortality, and her as-\\npirant mounts up with his thoughts yet beyond the\\nearth to the golden portals of heaven, then, in-\\ndeed, the sum of human perfection will be attained.\\nThis is the object of my mission, then my hour\\nwill come, my task be ended, and the wand fall\\nfrom the hand that has wielded it for centuries.\\nAngel of bliss I will henceforth follow thee\\nto the ends of the earth I will take heed to thy\\nwords as they fall from thy divine lips. Fame!\\nthou art no longer a dream, glittering and beck-", "height": "3491", "width": "1819", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "28 THE PLUME.\\noningj but to deceive. For thy smiles my heart\\nthirsts, and all my happiness is centred in thee\\nHenceforth what is wisdom, what is goodness or\\nvirtue, but thy breath and thy smile! I risk my\\nall of hope, here and hereafter, upon thee! Oth-\\ners have taken thee to their bosom as a bride -I\\nwould be cherished in thine as a child.\\nThe Genius of the Library waved his wand, and\\na vision burst upon my eyes like that of some fairy\\npalace in an enchanted grotto. Streams were\\nseen at a distance, sparkling and beaming in the\\nlight, on whose banks the Muses reclined, playing\\nupon their harps and lyres. Birds warbled their\\nsweetest notes in the trees that waved upon the\\nborders of the stream. The alcoves had expand-\\ned and spread away into brilliant columns of gold\\nand jasper, and the myriads of books, which they\\nonce contained, were seen in the hands of the liv-\\ning and breathing forms who composed them re-\\nclining beneath the shade of the trees, or walking,\\nin countless multitudes, along the paths that led\\nto the bowers of the muses, leading their disciples\\nby the hand. Nearer stood Fame, bright as an\\nangel, extending her scroll, containing in golden\\ncharacters the names of her worshipers. I was\\nabout to record my name among the rest, as she\\ngreeted me with her radiant smile; but the Genius\\npointed back through a long vista, which I had not\\nseen before, where men seemed to be plodding", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "DREAM OF THE DYING UNDYING ONE. 29\\nand toiling for gain, rubbing the sweat from their\\nbrow, and striving for that splendid and deceptive\\nbauble wealth.\\nGo back! said he; go back to the world;\\nyou must be tried still longer and if you are not\\nwanting to yourself, then welcome to our retreat.\\nBut, man! remember that all your fond desires to\\nbe remembered and applauded among men are\\nnought, unless they are akin to, and spring from,\\nstill nobler aspirations for immortality beyond the\\ngrave.\\nSo saying, he waved his wand once more, the\\nscene shifted, and I was left alone in the Library.\\nDREAM OF THE DYING UNDFING ONE.\\nPale bends the student o er the page,\\nWithin his solitary cell,\\nLike one entranced, and heedeth not\\nThe deep stroke of the midnight bell.\\nThe summer breeze, with lip of love,\\nHis wan and sunken cheeks doth kiss;\\nBut not eve s soft, delicious breath,\\nCan woo him from his dreams of bliss\\nIt parts the locks with sweet caress.\\nUpon his hot and aching brow,\\nBut ah with all its wealth of balm,\\nIt brings no life or healing now.\\n3*", "height": "3491", "width": "1819", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "30 THE PLUME.\\nBurneth the student s lamp more dim\\nHe throws the magic volume by,\\nAnd turns, as if some vision bright\\nHad caught and chained his eagle eye.\\nSweet smiles are playing round those lips.\\nOnce eloquent, now silent, pale\\nAnd see hot tears his cheeks have wet,\\nAnd told the feeble scholar s tale.\\nO say, what sprite or conjuror\\nHath stole into the dreamer s cell,\\nWho thus can charm his eye away\\nFrom the old book he loves so well\\nWhy those bright smiles\\nHas Love, young Love,\\nRevealed her dazzling form this hour,\\nOr lulled his ear with witching song,\\nSpell-bound his thoughts with cunning power\\nHas Poesy, with magic glass.\\nCalled forms from other worlds than this\\nAnd are his smiles sweet signals given.\\nTo meet them in their bowers of bliss\\nOr buried is the scholar s mind\\nFar within the shadowy Past,\\nWhere Fame, upon her sculptured urn\\nFirst rose to sound her trumpet blast?\\nRove with the godlike Socrates\\nHis thoughts, or Plato the divine\\nIn Academia s hallowed shades.\\nHis heart gray Wisdom s holy shrine\\nWhere Eloquence lit up her fires.\\nAnd young Philosophy her page", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "DREAM OF THE DYING UNDYING ONE. 31\\nUnrolled, to spread the glorious truth\\nTo beam upon an after age\\no man, thy soul shall never die\\nThe light within thee ne er expire.\\nOr is the Muse the scholar s lip\\nTouching with Inspiration s fire\\nBreathes she such golden, burning thoughts,\\nThe birthright of a soul like his,\\nAs waking with a giant s strength,\\nFrom her long sleep of centuries,\\nThe godlike mind creates, when far\\nWhere Nature s mysteries are hid,\\nGlances her eagle-eye through Time,\\nThe dews of ages on its lid\\nOr wrapt in glorious vision there.\\nSees he the form of young Romance,\\nWith golden scarf and silken plume.\\nKeeping all bright her hero s lance\\nWhispers she words so magical.\\nTo lure him, care-worn, from his cell,\\nTo the red field of bright renown.\\nTo hear Death peal the warrior s knell\\nTo listen to the minstrel s song\\nOf Love and Chivalry and see\\nYoung Beauty, with her jewelled zone.\\nSweep by in pride, then bend the knee\\nAnd weep above the moss-grown stone,\\nThat marks her hero s, lover s grave,\\nWhere once she heard his bugle-note.\\nAnd saw his silken banner wave.\\nTell me, gray reader of the mind.\\nWho solv st its riddles, thoughts sublime,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "32 THE PLUME.\\nDreams he of these, these visions bright,\\nAt this still, lonely, midnight time?\\nThat thus his soul, this blessed hour,\\nNo calm mid all its calmness knows,\\nNor thirsts he for the magic page.\\nNor seeks his pillow s sweet repose\\nNo Fame s enchanting trump hath pealed\\nUpon his ear her stirring theme,\\nSuch as no lore of deep Philosophy,\\nYoung, budding Love s first, witching dream\\nPoesy, that with young Romance\\nTo Beauty s ear her legend tells.\\nCan bring from all their wondrous stores,\\nOr summon with their magic spells.\\nScholar entranced O, dost thou see\\nFame s radiant vision passing near\\nDost hear her, as she stoops to bless,\\nAnd chant a welcome in thine ear\\nYoung student, live, when eloquence\\nJVo more shall linger on those lips,\\nWhen those bright eyes shall close in deaths\\nAnd pale in their long, last eclipse\\nWhen mouldering lies, as lie it must,\\nThy godlike form beneath the sod,\\nAnd on her heaven-born wings thy soul.\\nPure one soars upward to thy God.\\nLive live till Time shall be no more,\\nAnd Fame drops her recording pen\\nlAve, till Eternity begins.\\nAnd angels take it up again\\n-H^", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "DREAM OF THE DYING UNDYING ONE.\\nH^\\n33\\nBride of my soul his pale lips part\\nSweet as to summer rose the dew,\\nThy voice comes to my spirit now;\\nO, peal thy silver trump anew\\nThy music on my ravished ear\\nFalls, like the strains of bards, whose lyres,\\nStill trembling with entrancing songs,\\nWake in all hearts their purer fires.\\nUpon the walls of that lone cell,\\nLo rays celestial burst and stream,\\nWriting in golden characters.\\nFulfillment of his glorious dream\\nA name that ne er shall die and Fame,\\nOf that poor scholar s world the queen.\\nStands by on her undying scroll\\nBlazons it bright, and smiles serene.\\nThe vision passed. O, can it be\\nA dream, wild phantom of the brain\\nAnd will he wake, to struggle on\\nWith Penury, and Want, and Pain\\nSweet Night, star-lit and beautiful\\nNot thee the dying scholar greets:\\nHis broken heart, no breeze of thine\\nCan heal, with all its wealth of sweets.\\nNo mother s tear, no sweet bride s kiss\\nDoth bless him, in his humble home\\nGod help thee now No loved one bends\\nAbove thee in thy martyrdom.\\nAwake awake", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "34 THE PLUME.\\nThy dream is o er\\nAnd Toil and Want their work have done\\nThy book thy only pillow is,\\nPoor dying, yet undying one\\nHis pale lips close his hands are clasped\\nAnd burns the dim light still more dim;\\nNothing within the wide, wide world,\\nHath joy or sorrow more for him.\\nHe dies his spirit s eye upturned\\nStill bright to its celestial goal\\nHe dies He dies\\nNor knew that Fame\\nHis own name blazoned on her scroll!\\nTIME S DAY-BOOK AND LEDGER.\\nAh! Time! old gray-beard! take a chair\\nAnd pray be seated, where you are\\nNo nearer, if you please. Let s see\\nHow matters stand twixt you and me. Old Song.\\nAs I was sitting in my chamber, before a com-\\nfortable fire, one cold, snappish afternoon, not long\\nago, I insensibly fell into that state of mental and\\nbodily stupor, quite common with fat gentlemen\\nafter dinner, when one is puzzled to tell whether\\nhe is asleep or awake. I seemed to be vibrating\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "TIME S DAY-BOOK AND LEDGER.\\n35\\nbetween two indistinct, indefinite sources of enjoy-\\nment, if I may so speak, but could grasp at neith-\\ner. It had been a hard day among merchants, and\\nwas no time for money to be lying idle. A note in\\nhand was worth two in the pocket. Many, as full\\nas a soaked sponge in the morning, were wrung\\ndry by night. I was blessing- my stars that I was\\ntoo poor to be one of these for there are times\\nwhen a man may thank God for his poverty as well\\nas his riches and looking over the bills and ac-\\ncounts, with which my table was covered, of every\\ndescription, from demands for the clothes that cov-\\nered my body and the books that ministered to my\\nmind, down to those for the oats upon which my\\nhorse was dining in the stable. They were all\\npaid and receipted in due form, and it was with a\\nsincerity and gratitude, which few Avere in a situa-\\ntion to experience, that, after having tied them with\\nred tape into bundles, I exclaimed, aloud, Thank\\nGod! I am rid of duns!\\nNot so fast, not so fast, Mr. Snooks said a\\ngruff voice behind me.\\nMy jaw fell, my hair rose, and I felt an inex-\\npressible terror at turning my head either to the\\nright or left.\\nNot so fast, not so fast, Mr. Snooks! con-\\ntinued the same terrific and horrible voice, in a\\nlong-drawn tone, Thank God, if you will, when\\nyou are rid oi me!\\n4*-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0099\u00a6^H-\\n36 THE PLUME.\\nMy curtains were drawn, and the room almost\\ndark; and, as I turned my head towards the door\\nHeavens! what an unearthly object met my\\ngaze! A figure of small size had entered the\\nroom and was still in some kind of motion. He\\nneither knocked nor passed the customary saluta-\\ntion. The vision was too indistinct in the dark-\\nness for me accurately to ascertain his dress, even\\nif my amazement would have permitted; but he\\nseemed to be clothed in tatters of a dark and\\nshadowy hue, mouldering, decaying, and filmy as\\ncobwebs, as if he had just arisen from one of the\\ncatacombs of the Nile, after a sleep of three thou-\\nsand years. He was bent almost double, and\\nwore a long and bushy beard, as white as snow, that\\ntrailed upon the floor. The lower part of his body\\nseemed encased in something like bronze, and his\\nsandals seemed of iron, or adamant; and yet he\\nmoved as light as a fawn. I thought I discovered\\nsomething like wings, at his sides; but what sur-\\nprised me more than any thing, was, that he bore\\non his back two immense parchment-covered and\\niron-clasped folios, nearly as large as the door, and\\nalmost half as thick as they were long. How this\\nstrange figure found his way into my chamber, I\\nknow not, for certain I am that the door was locked\\non the inside; and how he moved about with his\\nhuge burden without upsetting every thing, is a\\nmystery, of which I felt no disposition to attempt a\\n-4-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "TIME S DAY-BOOK AND LEDGER.\\n37\\nsolution. As I sat gazing and wondering, tramp,\\ntramp, he went about the room, keeping his sharp\\neyes turned upon me all the while, as if they would\\nwither me with their unearthly gaze; and, point-\\ning with his finger to the huge volemes, beneath\\nwhich he was bending, on the back of which 1 be-\\nheld, for the first time, in large characters, the\\nwords Day-Book and Ledger. His counte-\\nnance, or what I could see of it, wore so severe\\nand forbidding an expression, as to defy all at-\\ntempts at speech. He still pointed to his burthen,\\nand, as I fancied, was narrowing the distance be-\\ntween us. Pray, sir, said I, attempting to turn\\nmy eyes from his, and speaking in an almost inau-\\ndible voice May I ask your name, and busi-\\nness? Name! said he, and he was nearly a\\nminute pronouncing the word Name! I have\\nas many different names as there are nations on\\nthe earth, ay, as there are men in those nations,\\nor hairs upon your head. I have been called\\nChronos, Tempus, and a million other names; but\\nI am best known to you as Time call me Time.\\nMy business you will find by opening these books;\\nand he unpacked the folios from his back, and laid\\nthem on the floor. I had a very little recovered\\nmyself, but felt no more like doing business than\\nI should after having had a tumble down the cata-\\nract of Niagara. I fancied I could feel his cold\\nand withering breath as he spoke, and I felt chilled\\n4", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "38 THE PLUME.\\nto my very bones. Time thought I. My God!\\nis it possible? I could not think or talk straight.\\nI could not put two ideas together, even if 1 had\\npossessed them at the moment. I spoke as if full\\nof courage, but I cowered and trembled in his\\npresence.\\nPray sir Mr. Time pray, take a chair.\\nI I did not know that you had any demands\\nagainst me.\\nI felt the big drops of sweat, cold as I was,\\ntrickle from my forehead.\\nTime t-i-m-e Has 7ny time cornel I\\nasked, breathing to myself.\\nI never stop. Stop! why should I when I\\nhave millions to overtake? You, vain mortals,\\nthink to outstrip me in the race. You think to run\\naway from me as from a bailiff or a dun. But hide\\nwhere you will, I will be there too; and if my ac-\\ncounts and my reckonings are not heeded, before\\nI bring them all to the earth to the cold prison-\\nhouse of the tomb let them look io it hereafter\\nay, hereafter. I shuddered, as his trembling\\nvoice dwelt on the last words, as if they were in-\\ntended to carry a terrible import to the soul.\\nHere, he continued, pointing to the ponder-\\nous volumes with some glittering, flashing instru-\\nment that I had not beheld before here is your\\naccount. Look over my books, and see that it is\\nright. I must be off. I have many debts to col-\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24^", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "4-\\ntime s day-book and ledger. 39\\nlect. I shall call at four we must then have a\\nsettlement, and well will it be for you if I am in\\nyour debt. I must be gone and yet, he con-\\ntinued, drawing nearer, I shall be with you when\\nyou think I am gone. Remember, at four\\nAs he spoke, he pointed to my watch, on the ta-\\nble, which told the hour of two; but, as he pro-\\nnounced the word four, the hands moved in a sec-\\nond to the hour of four, and immediately moved\\nback again to two. I saw him not. He was gone\\nand yet I feared he was there. I saw him not;\\nbut methought 1 heard him in the room.\\nAll this was done in so strange and mysterious\\na manner, and this unearthly visitant took me so\\ncompletely by surprise, that it was some moments\\nbefore I could recollect where 1 was. As I cast\\nmy eyes upon the decaying embers of the fire,\\nstrange and uncouth forms rose there upon my\\nvision, flickered and disappeared symbols of my\\nhopes, my prospects, and my resolutions, Has\\nmy time come? I asked myself I seemed to\\nhave no control over my will, my thoughts, or my\\nvery movements. Terrors innumerable flitted be-\\nfore my mind, and despair seemed to have settled\\nupon my soul. The world was shut out from my\\nthoughts, and I seemed to myself for a moment to\\nbe the only creature in existence. As my eyes\\nwandered here and there, they rested upon the old\\nmirror. I looked the image of stupor and amaze-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "40 THE PLUME.\\nment. My hair stood out like bristles; my eyes\\nwere wild and unsteady, and my tongue hung out\\nof my open mouth like a dog s, panting after the\\nhot chase is ended. But O as the dying tire illu-\\nmined different points around me, the books, the\\ncurtains, and the walls, it fell brightly upon the\\nname of one volume, and seemed to light it up with\\nsuch a glory as riveted my gaze, long and stead-\\nfast. 1 saw written, in golden letters, upon the\\nopposite wall, the words The Holy Bible! A\\nray of heavenly hope and joy darted into my soul.\\nA thought of heaven rose up from the unsettled\\nand troubled musings of my mind, and gleamed\\nover them like a ray from God s throne, bearing\\norder, joy, and confidence upon its wings. Long\\ndid my eyes rest upon those golden words; and\\nquick as the broken heart drinks in consolation\\nand hope from the lips of eloquent wisdom and di-\\nvine communion, did the founts of all that is good\\nin me open, and administer life to my thirsty soul.\\nWhat springs, which the cares of the world had\\nalmost locked up, were unsealed, and now gushed\\nup in this hour of lost hope How the troubles of\\nthe moment and the sadness of the hour press down\\nboth soul and body, unless the clear and hidden\\nsprings of goodness in the heart have been fed and\\nfilled up, day after day, and year after year, by the\\nsweet and gentle rains and dews of heaven!\\nYes! said I, as my thoughts began insensi-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "time s day-book and ledger. 41\\nbly to speak forth; yes, true it is Religion is\\nthe pure and undying beacon-flame of the soul, that\\ncan alone guide the mariner over the waters of life\\nsafely to heaven and to his God!\\nMy watch pointed to the hour of three. Was\\nthis strange being in the room, watching my mo-\\ntions, and prying into my thoughts? I looked not\\nto ascertain, for 1 cared not. I was re-assured\\nwith confidence; but it was a confidence as differ-\\nent from that which I felt before the appearance\\nof my visiter, as the ray of the diamond from that\\nof an expiring taper. Still his repeated Not so\\nfast not so fast! thank God, if you will, when\\nyou are rid of me! rung like a warning note of\\nalarm in my ears. I proceeded to look over the\\nDay-Book, which opened at my touch as easily as\\nif it had been instinct with life and anticipated my\\nwishes. As well acquainted as business had made\\nme with books for many years, yet I confess there\\nwas somethino; so ludicrous to me in the idea of\\nmaking people Debtors and Creditors of Time,\\nthat my gravity would frequently relax into a smile.\\nAnd then the various items that were put down in\\nthe books were done in so mercantile a fashion,\\nand yet, withal, sounded so oddly to my ears, that\\nI began at first to make a jest of what was in good\\ntruth no very jesting matter. Most of the charac-\\nters were so blurred and worn, and written in so\\nmany tongues, dead and living, forgotten and re-\\n4\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0f", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "42\\nTHE PLUME.\\nmembered, that it would have required the pres-\\nence of a representative of every age and nation,\\nthat ever existed, to have rendered all the contents\\nof these folios perfectly intelligible. I had the rep-\\nutation in my younger days of being a very respec-\\ntable linguist; but there were thousands of words\\nbefore me, at reading which I made a dead stand.\\nIn the Day-Book were put down all the favors that\\nTime had granted to individuals each minute,\\nhour, day, week, and year of their existence; and\\nO! what a fearful array of these was written\\nagainst the names of some The accounts of those\\nwho were dead were crossed by two large and full\\nblack lines. Noah was made debtor for being\\ncarried in the ark safely over the waters. There\\nwere to be seen the names of Socrates, Plato, and\\nAristotle, made debtors to sundry opportunities,\\nand credited for wisdom; Cleopatra made debtor\\nfor BEAUTY, with hardly an item to her credit.\\nThere were the names of kings and their para-\\nmours; priests and their wives; cardinals with\\ntheir favorites; queens, mistresses, and maids;\\nknights, squires, and gentlemen of every degree;\\nwarriors, and the historians who recorded their\\nnames on their pages; poets, popes, and poltroons;\\ntavern-keepers, duns, and lawyers; actors, in-\\ntriguers, and prime-ministers, some made debt-\\nors for success in battle; some, success in love;\\nsome, success in politics; some for health, riches,", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "TIMK s UAY-BOOK and LKl;GER. 43\\nchildren, and so on, from the alpha to the omega\\nof the hook. I very hastily ran ovei- the Day-\\nBook, hut remember that I was struck with the\\nidea, that Faust was not the first book-maker, if\\nhe was the first type setter. The contents of the\\nLedirer were more startlinsf to ex.amiiie for here\\nthe creditor and debtor sides were wiitten out to-\\ngether, and a balance struck in most cases either\\nin favor of or ajjainst the name of individuals.\\nHere I observed that credit was civen to great\\nnames, which the world had slandered and abused;\\nand here, too, the balance was struck against\\nsome, who are heroes on the pages of history. So\\ndifferent, thought 1, is the estimation placed upon\\nthem by Time and the age in which they flourished.\\nFew are great who are not the objects of this topsy-\\nturvy reputation. Fame is an idle jade, that will\\nwag her tongue to a man s injury as well as to his\\nglory; and the dishonor, whether momentary or\\nlasting, that she suffers to tarnish the names of the\\ngreat, during some part of the period, in which they\\nare on the lips of men, is but the penalty which\\nthey are compelled to pay for their greatness.\\nAh! virtue is the being upon which we may alone\\nsecurely rest our affections, and at whose breath\\ndishonor melts away, when she advances to settle\\nupon her votary, 1 exclaimed, as I read over the\\nnames of martyrs, and of those meek sufferers who\\nendured all things for the Gospel of Peace.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "44 THE PLUME.\\nI turned with fear to my own account in the\\nLedger, for it was growing late, and began to look\\nover the various items, wondering and absorbed\\nin thought. I observed that no balance was\\nstruck. Pray Heaven, I exclaimed, that I\\nmay get rid of this dun as easily as others.\\nWell, well! to business. I cannot wait! ex-\\nclaimed the figure behind me, though I was not\\naware of his approach. No nearer! if you\\nplease, said I, as 1 saw him approaching and\\nshaking his white head almost in my face No\\nnearer! It wants a quarter to four, by my\\nwatch. It is four! I alone have the true\\ntime, said the figure. Come! Mr. Snooks, I\\nhave waited long enough; let us wind up our af-\\nfairs I must turn over a new leaf for you in my\\nbooks. I was not now so completely deprived of\\nall presence of mind as before; but look him\\nstraight in the face I dared not. How he moved\\nI know not but that he was constantly in motion,\\nthough I could not now perceive it, as I thought I\\ncould upon his first appearance, I am as certain as\\nof my own existence; for turn my eyes which way\\nI would, they were sure to light upon his moulder-\\ning, unearthly garments, or upon his sallow,\\nbronze-looking countenance. If my glances shift-\\ned with the rapidity of thought, they were sure to\\nmeet his fixed and settled gaze.\\nMillions have been summoned to their last ac-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "TIMk s day-book and LEDGEIt. 45\\ncount, said he, in a solemn voice, since I laid\\nmy books before you. 1 have tiaveled over the\\nuniverse since then; and yet, 1 have not been ab-\\nsent from your chamber. 1 possess the power of\\nubiquity. Millions have been sunnnoned awav,\\nay, and millions have sprung into being, whose\\nnames are to be written in niy books, and whose\\naccounts this day begin.\\nAs he spoke, 1 gazed upon him with an earnest-\\nness that, to an observer, would have proved the\\npower which he had over me. Indeed, 1 felt my\\ninterest in the old gentleman increasing each mo-\\nment, and began to desire that our interview mijzht,\\nby some possibility, be prolonged. All fear that\\nmy account was to be settled forever, and that his\\nbooks were to be closed against me forever, had\\nvanished, upon listening to his woids and looking\\ninto his Ledger. 1 had not, therefoie, at present,\\nthat dread and stupor upon me, which I have men-\\ntioned as having seized me, when the idea flashed\\nupon my mind, that at four I was to he sutnninned\\nfrom time into eternity. No! my thread (\u00c2\u00bbf life\\nwas to be spun on still farther, and not snapped in\\ntwain at the very next stroke of lime. 1 there-\\nfore addressed my visiter, as one with whom I\\nstood well, and whose favor 1 was desirous of se-\\ncurinor.\\nAt any moment you please, I said, I will\\nlook over your Ledger with you. 1 am young,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "46 THE PLUME.\\nthough my years are almost as many as are allot-\\nted to man, and you, sir, must be old. May 1\\nhope that so aged a creditor will not be hard with\\none whose years are but a point to his?\\nAs you are ready, I will not press the matter.\\nOthers would have reason to thank God, if they,\\nalso, could say they were ready, when I call.\\nOld! call you me? Ay when the Almighty spoke\\ncreation into birth, I was there. Then was I\\nborn. Mid the bloom and verdure of Paradise, I\\ngazed upon the young world, radiant with celes-\\ntial smiles. I rose upon the pinions of the first\\nmorn, and caught the sweet dew-drops as they\\nfell, and sparkled on the bowers of the garden.\\nEre the foot of man was heard sounding; in this\\nwilderness, 1 gazed out upon its thousand rivers,\\nflashing in light, and reflecting the broad sun, like\\na thousand jewels, upon their bosoms. The cata-\\nracts sent up their anthems in these solitudes, and\\nnone was here to listen to the new-born melody\\nbut I! The fawns bounded over the hills, and\\ndrank at the limpid streams, ages before an arm\\nwas raised to injure or make them afraid. For\\nthousands of years the morning star rose in beauty\\nupon these unpeopled shores, and its twin-sister\\nof the eve flamed in the forehead of the sky, with\\nno eye to admire their rays but mine. Ay call\\nme old. Babylon and Assyria, Palmyra and\\nThebes, rose, flourished, and fell, and I beheld\\n4-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "time s day-book and ledger. 47 r\\nthem in their glory and their decline. Scarce a\\nmelancholy ruin marks the place of their exist-\\nence; but when their first stones were laid in the\\nearth, I was there! Mid all their glory, splendor,\\nand wickedness, I was in their busy streets, and\\ncrumbling their magnificent piles and their gor-\\ngeous palaces to the earth. My books will show\\na long and fearful account against them. I con-\\ntrol the fate of empires, I give them their period\\nof glory and splendor; but, at their birth, I con-\\nceal in them the seeds of death and decay. They\\nmust go down, and be humbled in the dust,\\ntheir proud heads bowed down before the risino-\\nglories of young nations, to whose prosperity there\\nwill also come a date, and a day of decline. I\\npoise my wing over the earth, and watch the\\ncourse and doings of its inhabitants. I call up the\\nviolets upon the hills, and crumble the gray ruins\\nto the ground. I am the agent of a Higher Pow-\\ner, to give life and to take it away. I spread silk-\\nen tresses upon the brow of the young, and plant\\ngray hairs on the head of the aged man. Dim-\\nples and smiles, at my bidding, lurk around the\\nlips of the innocent child, and I furrow the brow\\nof age with wrinkles. Old, call you me? ay, but\\nwhen will my days be numbered? When will\\nTime end, and Eternity begin? When will the\\nearth and its waters the universe be rolled up,\\nand a new world commence its revolutions? Not", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "48\\nTHE PLUME.\\ntill He, who first bid me begin my flight, so orders\\nit. When His purposes, who called me into be-\\ninfr, are accomplished, then, and not till then,\\nand no one can proclaim the hour, I too shall\\ngo to the place of all living.\\nHis manner and voice were so different from\\nany thing I had before observed while speaking,\\nthat, lor a moment, 1 gazed upon his venerable\\nform with wonder and admiration. As he finished,\\nhe called my thoughts back to myself, by point-\\ninty, in the Oj en Ledger, to the different items that\\nmade up my account. My name was written in\\nstartling characters; and, with all my confidence,\\n1 trembled to add up the debit and credit sides,\\nlest the balance should go against me. Who ever\\nhad a bill presented, th^t he did not question its\\ncorrectness in some part? Not I. I looked over\\nthe account, making observations as I proceeded,\\nas I would have done in any case, and asking\\nquestions that were promptly answered. There\\nwere thousands of items for which I was made\\ndebtor to him, of this kind Dr. to Time for\\nopportunity, and I was glad to observe that 1\\nwas, in most cases, credited for improving them.\\nWhat, said I, here is an item for which I\\nam made debtor, and which has but little credit\\nagainst it, item, gray hairs.\\nWhy should you be credited, he replied,\\nby more than a single mite of true wisdom.", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "time s day-book and ledger. 49\\nHave I not learned knowledge of the world?\\nHave I not learned the uselessness and vanity of\\nall worldly things? What, but these gray hairs,\\nfor which I am fairly your debtor, has given me\\nthis knowledge, and taught me to raise my thoughts\\nfrom earth to heaven, the only abode of true hap-\\npiness Have I not seen the faults and errors of\\nothers, and profited by them? Have I not avoid-\\ned the paths in which they have been lost? Have\\nnot their losses proved my gain, and shall I have\\nno credit therefor? You have given me gray\\nhairs; but you have taken from me the soft locks\\nof innocent youth. If I am gray, I have seen\\ntrouble, and is the lesson I have learned to be\\nof no use to me? Have others profited as well by\\ntheir white locks, as I have by mine? Are not\\nsome gray-headed men old in vice?\\nEvery gray hair upon your head should have\\nbrought you wisdom, instead of but one in a hun-\\ndred. You have had lessons set before you, but\\nhave failed always to draw that improvement and\\ninstruction from them, which alone are the foun-\\ndation of true wisdom. I robbed you of your\\nyouthful locks, but it was that you might be ma-\\ntured in mind. Rely upon your own powers, and\\nlean not for support upon the falling bodies of oth-\\ners?\\nAy, but is it no merit in me that I have avoid-\\ned the errors into which others have fallen, and\\n5", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "50 THE PLUME.\\nthough my loss is not their gain, individually con-\\nsidered, yet is it not to be accounted the greater\\nmerit to have gone right, where so many have\\ngone wrong?\\nTrue, Man! in that you have shown wisdom,\\nand for that I have given you ample credit, as you\\nobserve. Yet, wisdom is so costly and precious\\na jewel, that but a ray sent forth from it out-shines\\nall the concentrated beams of pride and worldly\\nlory. You have passed through troubles, and\\nyour spirit has not been broken down, but in the is-\\nsue elevated and exalted. If every opportunity, for\\nwhich you are my debtor, has not been improved\\nas it might have been yet you have done well,\\nthough others may have done better. Moments\\nhave been lost, and you must have been more than\\nmortal not to have suffered some to pass by unim-\\nproved; and fortunate is it for you at this hour\\nthat these were in your more juvenile days.\\nYou took from me the wife of my bosom O!\\nwhat can I have gained by that loss.\\nI gave her to thee, and I took her away. So\\nfar, we are even. But you have been the gainer.\\nLook! have I not passed much to your credit on\\nthat score? Were not your thoughts, before I\\ncalled her away, centred on the earth, and did I not\\nraise them to heaven? What possession of earth,\\nthough but little inferior in beauty to angels, will\\nyou weigh against an inheritance in the realms of", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "time s day-book and ledger. 51\\nbliss, Avhere you will again meet your partner? I\\nstole her from your bosom, it is true; but did I not\\nplant principles there, which have since sprung up\\nand imparted a new existence to your soul prin-\\nciples that will outlive the perishing tabernacle of\\nclay which encloses them? Sorrow you have\\nknown by this bereavement; but you came forth\\nfrom the trial like gold from the furnace.\\nBut you might have spared my only boy, just\\nbudding into loveliness and beauty?\\nBlame not my actions; I do the will of One\\nhigher than us all. He was cut down ere the\\ntemptations of the world lured him astray from the\\npaths of virtue ere the blast of its impurities had\\nsullied his pure spirit. You are a gainer by these\\nlosses, and I have given you much credit in my\\nLedoer on their account.\\nYou have temptations innumerable against\\nme; it is like lending me false coin.\\nYes! he replied, and you may be thank-\\nful that you have resisted so many of them and\\nenabled me to give you so much credit therefor.\\nThey are no base coin, but the true touchstones\\nof the soul the tests of its purity. In resisting\\nthese consists true merit in such curbings of the\\nspirit, in such checking of the weak part of your\\nnature, you have come off conqueror many times\\nand oft, and in this have shown yourself superior\\nto thousands who have borne the names of philos-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "52 THE PLUME.\\nophers and sages. I have given you chances to\\nerr, but you turned away from them; and, instead\\nof you being my debtor, I have become yours.\\nTrue greatness consists as much in avoiding er-\\nrors, that have been committed by men since the\\nworld began, as in doing great actions.\\nYou took from me all my fortune the accu-\\nmulated earnings of years of toil, labor, and suf-\\nfering.\\nSuffering! Honor not with that name the\\nrubs which you get in the war for riches. You\\nwere reduced from affluence to poverty: was not\\nyour soul wrapped up in the love of gain? Were\\nnot riches your god your idol? Did you not\\noften take from others, that you might enrich your-\\nself? I gave you an opportunity to learn a lesson\\nof prudence and wisdom; but it passed by unim-\\nproved. You went on, from day to day, adding\\nto your almost exhausted stock and had I not\\ntaken from you what was dearer even than life,\\nyou would now tremble at my account against\\nyou.\\nI am content, I exclaimed; you have dealt\\nfairly with me. Strike the balance; if it goes\\nagainst me, I am undone the fault be at my own\\ndoor!\\nIt is done I thought it not I am your debt-\\nor to a very small amount!\\nI then am the Dun! Pray, take your own", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "-H^\\nTHE BUTTERFLY TO THE DYING CHILD. 53\\ntime, if you please; pass the balance to my\\ncredit on the new page.\\nNo! I must begin again square. Here is my\\nnote, payable in Eternity. When presented, I\\nwill be there to take it up. It is for a small sum;\\nbut by the time it becomes due, when you, and the\\nnation of which you are a part, are no more, it will\\nbe trebled, billions of times, and out-value all the\\npossessions of this world.\\nSo saying, he shut up his Day-Book and Ledg-\\ner, clasped and shouldered them, and vanished\\nlike a ghost at twilight.\\nTHE BUTTERFLY TO THE DYING CHILD.\\nThe incident, in which the subjoined lines had their origin,\\nconveys to the heart one of those beautiful and touching lessons,\\nwhich are sometimes vouchsafed to us, as if to remind us of the\\nclose and sisterly communion which exists between the inno-\\ncent child upon earth and the spirits of the better land. Their\\neloquent teachings will not be lost, if they reconcile parents to the\\nearly loss of the little cherubs, who are, as it were, loaned them\\nbut for a season, and admonish them not to mourn too bitterly the\\nreturn of a wandering child of heaven to its celestial home. A few\\ndays before the illness of the little one, to whom reference is had,\\nsays the writer of the obituary, a butterfly, very large, and of sin-\\ngular beauty, was found hovering in the room where she was at\\nplay, quite fascinating her with its graceful motions and brilliant\\ncolors, and after being several times thrust out, flying back at last,\\nand resting on the infant s forehead. For a moment, the beauti-\\nful insect remained there, expanding its brilliant wings, to the\\n5*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "54 THE PLUME.\\ngreat delight of the child, then suddenly, as if it had accomplished\\nits purpose, took its departure, and was soon out of sight. The\\nchild sickened and, again, but a few hours before her death, the\\nbutterfly was seen fluttering and seeking entrance at the window\\nof her chamber. It matters not, to our faith, whether, as the in-\\nnocent superstition of another land would tell us, there was a mes-\\nsage thus borne from the holy world, that this young life was\\nneeded there, and must be taken away. But at least, while we\\nremember that this frail insect is the emblem not only of a fleeting\\nexistence, but of a resurrection from a narrow and humble life to\\na higher and a brighter, we may find in the incident an illustration\\nthat shall teach us the Christian lesson which can never reach\\nus too powerfully that the spirit, of which we witness the first\\nunfolding here, has a freer and nobler expansion in a home where\\nour love, though not our care, can follow it.]\\nSweet child but yesterday\\nWhen the glad breeze swept o er the summer lawn\\nHow blithely thou didst chase me, far away,\\nFleet as the bounding fawn.\\nE en now I hear thy joyous laugh ring out\\nI see thy smile, as thou dost trip about.\\nI ll have thee thou didst sing,\\nAs my gay pinions lured thee from the door\\nLight now upon my hand, bright, tiny thing\\nAnd roam the fields no more.\\nWith mirth worn out, thou slept beneath the tree,\\nAnd I watched thee, dreaming of heaven and rae.\\nSweet was thy slumber, child\\nUpon that mossy couch oh sweet thy dream,\\nI lit upon thy sunny brow as honey wild\\nThy breath was sweet, or thyme.", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE BUTTERFLY AND THE DYING CHILD. 55\\nFather, who art in heaven thy lips did part,\\nAs thine infant prayer came gushing from thy lieart.\\nBut the cold damp of earth\\nShaded thy spirit, chilled thy little hand.\\nThey bore thee to thy home no more thy mirth,\\nJewel of the little band\\nFlashed from thy lip, thine eye. Thy mother s breast\\nThy dying pillow is thy home of rest\\nThere, sweet child reposing,\\nI guard thee now. I come, ere thou dost die,\\nTo mark the beauty of thine eye, just closing.\\nAnd catch that last sweet sigh.\\nI loved thy mirth, but, dying, more, oh, more,\\nThat cherub smile thy lips that lingers o er.\\nFrom shrub to floweret driven.\\nLike thee, I ve roamed the fields, nor dreamed of earth,\\nMy brilliant wings have fanned the air of heaven\\nI watched thy gentle birth\\nIn the bright realms of bliss. To lead thee right,\\nI took the form most lovely to thy sight.\\nBut thou art summoned home\\nAnd I, thine angel, wait to bear thee back\\nThy gentle spirit I receive. Sweet child, come!\\nSee, on our homeward track\\nAngels smiles are beaming. See near the Throne,\\nThe sainted spirits welcome thee, loved one.\\nHark thy last breath and sighs\\nUpon thy mother s bosom Thou dost but sleep,\\nAnd shalt awake asfain in Paradise.\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a64\u00c2\u00ab", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "56 THE PLUME.\\nThen who, oh who, would weep\\nRise! rise! my wings shall bear thy spirit on\\nTo earth a child is lost to heaven a cherub won\\nThe moss rose, near thy bed,\\nIs mine, emblem of one so pure and fair\\nIts leaves now shrink, its stalk is dying dead!\\nAnd scarce it scents the air.\\nThy vital spark, sweet child, is linked with it,\\nAs dies the rose thy soul doth homeward flit.\\nCome home, oh spirit dear\\nI ve watched thy budding bloom, I ve caught thy sigh,\\nThy jocund laugh upon my wings, to bear\\nAs an offering on high.\\nAnd noAv, my mission done, I soar away,\\nTo bathe my pinions in celestial day.\\nTO A MINIATURE.\\nEyes that have seen thee, lady, say thou art\\nLovely in feature as in mind and heart;\\nIf so, no smile of thine e er beamed on me,\\nZephyrs be laden with my love to thee\\nAngels guard thee in thy virgin bloom.\\nThy slumbers bless, and from theii* wings perfume\\nEver shed o er thee, in thy young love s dreams.\\nThough we have never met, in thee, it seems\\nAs if the idol of my heart I meet", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "THE ANTLERS. 57\\nGo on thy happy way Heaven bless that sweet,\\nInnocent face, and angel mien of thine,\\nLingering near me, as if they once were mine\\nEach day, like doves, some sweeter charm or grace,\\nSliall nestle in thy heart and thy sweet face.\\nTHE ANTLERS.\\nIn a beautiful dllage, some forty miles from Boston, is a pair of\\nantlers fastened to a post, once a flourishing tree, at the intersec-\\ntion of tAVo roads. They were placed there many years ago, by\\nan Indian Chief, one of the last of his tribe, who had pursued the\\ndeer from sunset till sunrise the next morning, and finally shot\\nher a few yards distant from the tree on the bank of the rivsr,\\njust as she had leaped in, almost exhausted and unable to fly, from\\nthe fatigue of the chase. Tradition also says that his own bones\\nwere laid beneath the tree upon which he fastened her antlers.]\\nIt was one broad and green domain.\\nWhich white man s foot had never trod\\nNo pilgrim s blood had flowed, to stain\\nThe verdure of the wind-kissed sod.\\nThe giant oaks their branches swung,\\nTo winds that swept through forest aisles\\nThe Indian lurked the trees among,\\nOr crept along the rock defiles,\\nAnd narrow paths wound through the Avood,\\nWhere here and there a wigwam stood.\\nThe black duck, on his glossy wing,\\nSailed the calm blue water over.\\nAnd o er the marsh in airy ring,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "4^-\\n58 THE PLUME.\\nWheeled, at morn and eve, the plover.\\nAlong the green and lovely lawn\\nBounded forth most playfully.\\nTo river s brink, the agile fawn,\\nTo bathe her graceful limbs, as free\\nAs if she feared no arroAv true\\nWould harm her in those waters blue.\\nThe partridge, from her covert green.\\nLed forth her gay and chirping brood.\\nAnd there the rabbit shy was seen\\nUpon her form the solitude\\nOf verdant plain and woodland hill\\nWas yet unbroken by the tread\\nOf busy man as silent, still.\\nAs some lone city of the dead\\nSave when the eagle, from his warm\\nAnd beetling eyrie from on high,\\nBade proud defiance to the storm.\\nAnd screamed his notes in loud reply\\nOr when the Indian war-song, heard.\\nAroused from his high perch, the bird,\\nOr wild beast from his noon-day lair,\\nTo cower in fright and terror there.\\nYoung morning s lids are opening now.\\nUpon that lawn, with dewdrops wet.\\nAnd all the mountain s rocky brow\\nSparkles, as if with jewels set.\\nThe sunlight streams along the sky,\\nAnd fragrant dell, and dancing river;\\nOn dewy lawn and oak-tree high\\nIts golden light is seen to quiver,", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE ANTLERS. 59\\nO er every shrub the radiance stealing\\nAnd as the leaves upon the trees\\nIn the first breath of morning stir,\\nThe landscape far beyond revealing,\\nThe scene is like some paradise,\\nThan earthly garden lovelier.\\nLo panting by that silver stream.\\nThe antlered faAvn is standing now\\nAll night since his last setting beam\\nThe sun threw on that mountain s brow,\\nAnd eve s dim shadows came no green\\nRetreat had she to cool her breast\\nThe Indian on her track hath been.\\nGiving no peaceful evening rest.\\nShe pants those nimble limbs, whose spring\\nWas rapid as the lightning s wing.\\nNo longer bound o er hill and dale,\\nAs wafts the hunter s cry the gale\\nFull many a mile, o er wood and plain,\\nAs morn night s veil doth lift again.\\nThe foot-prints on the dewy grass\\nAre seen, where that fleet fawn did pass\\nAnd at the moonlit brook and rill,\\nThe hunter close upon her still.\\nIs her light track, ere she did spring,\\nThen hear far back their waters sing.\\nAs she bounds on through grassy dell,\\nWhose sweet retreats she knows so well,\\nShe stops not, for the Indian s tread\\nNearer is heard, and now hath sped\\nHis bolt from out the leafy trees,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "60 THE PLUME.\\nWhile she far off snuffs in the breeze\\nO er hill and plain, with rapid pace\\nBounding, she finds no resting-place,\\nTill now, as drinking the cool wave.\\nShe fears the current s might to brave\\nAnd what but weariness could keep\\nHer limbs chained to that fatal place\\nFrom trusting to the rushing deep\\nHer form of loveliness and grace\\nShe dreads into its whirling flood\\nTo plunge once more to reach the plain,\\nLest the winged arrow with her blood\\nThe silver-leaping tide should stain.\\nWhy turns her eye to woodland glen\\nWhy start at rustling leaves, as when\\nThe wild beast rushes from his lair,\\nTo spring upon his victim there\\nHears she the Indian on his path,\\nCreeping along with stealthy tread.\\nThe well-known sound that warning hath.\\nAnd draws the arrow to its head\\nOne plunge\\nThat arrow cuts the air,\\nAnd quivers in its victim there,\\nDrinking the life-blood from her breast\\nAnd ere the hunter s foot hath pressed\\nThe river s bank, that fawn hath died.\\nMingling her warm blood with the tide.\\nBut many years have fled since then.\\nAnd white men s feet have trod that glen.\\nMany an autumn, on that plain,", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "SONG OF THE ANGEL OF THE FLOWERS. 61\\nThe harvest ripe of golden grain\\nHas been garnered, and that stream,\\nFrom dawn till day s last golden beam,\\nHas borne upon its silver tide\\nMany a noble ship in pride,\\nWhere red men, in their light canoe,\\nShot swiftly o er those waters blue.\\nNow not a relic of the race\\nIs seen upon that lovely place,\\nSave when the ploughman, with his spade.\\nTurns up a bone where they were laid.\\nBeneath yon tree is mouldering now\\nHis noble frame, who drew that bow;\\nAbove his grave on that sweet laAvn,\\nHang the broad antlers of the fawn\\nBut not a deer upon the green\\nAnd blooming forest-fields is seen\\nThey re gone the hunter and his game\\nFrom woodland path their fate the same.\\nSONG OF THE ANGEL OF THE FLOAVERS.\\nSung^ at the Horticultural Festival, in Boston, September 16, 1842.\\nI rose mid Eden s virgin bowers,\\nAnd caught upon my wings\\nYour rosy tints, celestial flowers\\nThat bloomed beside her springs.\\nThe golden sun his new-born light,\\nShed through the perfumed air\\nNo foot but mine, at morn or night,\\nDid press the flower-cups there\\nG", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "62 THE PLUME.\\nAnd morning s dew-drops, as they fell,\\nAnd sparkled in her bowers,\\nImaged, in each bright and tiny cell,\\nThe Angel of the Flowers.\\nAnd thou, sweet bird of Paradise\\nDancing from spray to spray.\\nWho, in the soft and silver light,\\nSingest the livelong day\\nThou wooedst me, with thy strain of love,\\nFrom flowery laAvn to hill,\\nAnd to my song as wreaths I wove\\nGay danced each laughing rill.\\nThy music, on the freighted breeze,\\nThat kissed th Elysian bowers.\\nEntranced, amid young Eden s trees,\\nThe Angel of the Flowers.\\nAnd when, in that enchanting hour,\\nI saw thee soar away,\\nI rose with thee from Eden s bower,\\nInto celestial day\\nI flew o er earth, her flowers to cull.\\nAnd sighed for Eden s bliss,\\nAmong the bright and beautiful\\nWhose cheeks the soft winds kiss\\nSailing on the delicious breeze,\\nI heard them in their bowers\\nJoyous the birds, fresh gales and gentle airs\\nWhispered it to the woods, and from their wings\\nThey rose, flung odors from the spicy shrub,\\nDisputing till the amorous bird of night,\\nSung spousal. Paradise Lost. I", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "SONG OF THE ANGEL OF THE FLOWERS. 63\\nEach daughter hailed, beneath the trees,\\nThe Angel of the Flowers.\\nAnd as we sung a sad adieu\\nTo our sweet Eden clime\\nI heard angelic voices chant\\nA farewell song, sublime.\\nI saw them wave their hands, and lean\\nUpon their harps the while\\nI wept as closed the golden gates.\\nUpon their heavenly smile\\nI turned away, and on my wings\\nCaught the light of Eden s bowers,\\nAnd far I heard their farewell chant,\\nTo the Angel of the Flowers.\\nDownward to earth I winged my way,\\nAnd wooed the laughinof sfirls,\\nI wove my roses in their cheeks,\\nTheir lips and sunny curls.\\nThe lily s white, the rose s blush\\nI wove them into one\\nI braided in their hair the flush\\nOf the golden, setting sun.\\nMe pressing, till our hearts were one,\\nThey sung, those blissful hours\\nAnd pledged their love foreverraore.\\nTo the Angel of the Flowers.\\nI saw one take her bridal vow,\\nA rose upon her breast\\nShe blushed, as to her bosom s shrine\\nHer lover s hand she pressed.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "64 THE PLUME.\\nI marked the graceful creature s tear,\\nAs she gave her heart away,\\nAnd crushed, in that embrace, the rose\\nUpon her breast that lay.\\nIts fragrance breathed from her sweet lips,\\nAs she kissed him in her bowers,\\nAnd welcomed to their green retreat.\\nThe Angel of the Flowers.\\nAnother, in her radiant bloom,\\nI watched upon the green,\\nShe bent above the church-yard tomb.\\nAnd wept for one within.\\nShe plucked the moss-rose from her breast,\\nAnd placed it on his bier\\nAnd, as her low-voiced prayer she breathed,\\nI caught that mother s tear.\\nBut, as she turned in grief away,\\nAnd sought her cypress bowers,\\nShe touched her lute, in plaintive strain,\\nTo the Angel of the Flowers.\\nI saw a rosy child at play.\\nHis laughing dimples hid\\nBeneath his silken curls, his eyes.\\nLike jewels of Giamschid.\\nHe chased the gorgeous butterfly\\nFrom fragrant shrub to tree\\nHe plucked the wild rose from its stalk,\\nAnd laughed with boyish glee\\nThe rose no thorn shall bear for him.\\nIn youth s unclouded hours\\nI", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "SONG OF THE ANGEL OF THE FLOWERS. 65\\nShe fanned the cherub with her wing,\\nSweet Angel of the Flowers.\\nAnd oh! amid that lovely throng,\\nTwo sisters, in sweet glee,\\nWere singing, as they tripped along\\nO er blooming lawn and lea.\\nThey plucked the daisy in their path.\\nThe violet from its bed.\\nAnd strewed them where a brother lay,\\nTo rest his aching head.\\nHe kissed them for the grateful boon\\nSo sweet in his sick hours.\\nAnd bade them cling, with sister s love,\\nTo the Angel of the Flowers.\\nI gazed at Beauty, as she sighed.\\nAnd left her jewelled throne.\\nTo twine gay roses mid the pearls\\nThat clasped her virgin zone.\\nQ,ueen-like she trod her fairy feet\\nTripping to songs of mirth\\nThe south wind dallied with her cheeks,\\nBright creature of the earth\\nI pressed her lily hand in mine.\\nAs we sought the rosy bowers,\\nI breathed my perfumes to her lips,\\nAnd Woman, since, herself hath been\\nThe Angel of the Flowers.*\\nThis song supposes that, at the creation of Eden, the guardianship\\nof its flowers, tliey being, as it were, the very breath of heaven,\\nwas entrusted to a special angel. While watching them, she is lured\\nfrom her bowers by the amorous descant of one of the golden-\\n6*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "66 THE PLUME.\\nTHE DEYIL AMONG THE BOORS.\\nIn faith, a resurrection of the damned\\nAnd mouldering volumes buried in the dust\\nThey do move and talk like those who made them\\nAnd the brain s offspring as gently roar you\\nAs sucking calf or bleating sheep, whose hides\\nAre laid upon their backs, encasing them,\\nOn which are gilded their baptismal names, OldPlarj.\\nIn one of the principal streets of a great me-\\ntropolis, whose borders enclose many a beautiful\\nform and patriotic heart, and whose environs,\\ngraced with all that is lovely and enchanting in\\nthe natural world, have been long consecrated by\\ndeeds of valor and undying fame, there might have\\nplumaged warblers with which Milton has peopled the garden of Para-\\ndise. Flying over the earth, she gazes upon all the most beautiful and\\nlovely visions which it presents. The young bride, wreathed with bridal\\nflowers the weeping mother, who casts a rose into the coffin other de-\\nparted spouse the sisters, who scatter flowers in the sick room of their\\nbrother the sporting child, who plucks the wild rose in his play all\\nthese win her love and admiration but it is not until the personification\\nof all that is beautiful and lovely in woman presents itself to her vision,\\nthat she is enticed to touch her foot upon the earth. The An^el of the\\nflowers no sooner presses her perfumed lips to those of the dazzling\\nBeauty, and clasps her lily hand in her own, than the celestial visitant\\nvanishes into the ambrosial perfume that freights the air. From that mo-\\nment woman herself takes the shape of the departing angel, and becomes\\nthe special guardian of the flowers. Hence her peculiar and beautiful\\nfondness for the cultivation of flowers in every path through lite in which\\nshe may be called to walk. The idea is original, at least, if not poetical\\nand, if pursued at length, could hardly fail, in the hands of a true poet, to\\nlead to the creation of a beautiful work of fancy.", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 67\\nbeen seen, some years ago, a long sign, projecting\\nover the door of a large, old-fashioned building,\\nbearing the name of Timothy Folio, Printer\\nBookseller, in large, antique characters.\\nOn one side of it was painted, what was probably\\nintended for a folio Bible, which one would take\\nto be as old as Faust. On the other was drawn\\nan odd-looking volume, which, though one might\\nfancy it designed to represent no one book in par-\\nticular, but all in general, like an algebraic quan-\\ntity, yet looked, for all the world, like an old-fash-\\nioned psalm-book, with the leaves torn out. The\\ncounters and shelves within were laden with lite-\\nrary treasures of different nations, dressed out in\\nelegant, gilt covers, in sheep, morocco, boards,\\nand parti-colored paper. Here were to be seen\\nliterary flowers, whose perfume had been ex-\\nhaled the moment they saw the light, blossoms and\\nbuds of native growth, and exotics, whose fra-\\ngrance and bloom became sweeter and more beau-\\ntiful, the more they were gazed at and examined.\\nWherever the eye wandered, it could discern\\nnothing but perennials, annuals, and ephemerals,\\nmingled with a few weeds and plants of a different\\ncharacter. In short, Mr. Folio s store, or rather\\nLiterary Room, held the same rank, at the period\\nI allude to, that is now held in our city by any of\\nthe prime bibliopolists of Washington Street.\\nI never knew precisely what use Mr. Folio made", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "68 THE PLUME.\\nof the apartment immediately over the store. It\\nwas never opened but in the night, when it was\\nregularly once a week lit up to a very late hour.\\nAs several thin-looking and meagre personages\\nwere seen, at times, stealing their way up stairs,\\nwho appeared to live on spare diet, it was supposed\\nthat this room was devoted to the sittings of a con-\\nventicle of critics. Certain demoniac laughs,\\nwhich were occasionally heard there, seemed to\\nconfirm the supposition. I have myself frequently\\nseen the names of unfortunate and condemned au-\\nthors scratched on the walls, if that circumstance\\ncan be considered as throwing any light upon the\\nmatter. Such was the belief, at all events, of au-\\nthors and writers, who declared that few books,\\nwhich had seen the inside of this den, were ever fa-\\nvorably received by the public, and only left it to\\nbe consigned to the spiders of the attic. Immedi-\\nately above this apartment, and on the third story,\\nwas a book-bindery and Mr. Folio s large printing\\nestablishment. In the attic, with which we are\\nmore immediately concerned, were stowed away\\nvarious publications, odd volumes, and supernu-\\nmerary copies. Here were the last new poem,\\nand the last year s novel, on the same shelf with a\\nvolume of some forgotten history, flanked by an\\nold almanac, and supported by a gazetteer. Long-\\nwinded epics had been puffed into this receptacle\\nof lost and forgotten books. Shelf-worn spelling-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "-4-\\nTHE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 69\\nbooks, and primers the cast-offs of a former\\ngeneration, which had been in the highest\\nclasses at school, were here turned back again to\\ntheir own alphabets. New troops of words had\\ndriven old dictionaries into this gloomy retreat,\\nand almanacs were here consigned to a darker\\nand more disastrous eclipse than any they had\\never predicted. Arithmetics might be seen here\\nfiguring in darkness, adding up the sum total of\\ntheir miseries, and listening to the dying croak of\\na song, or the long-drawn sigh of an amatory\\npoem. A few stray volumes of some classic pined\\naway in this place of literary ease and elegant\\nleisure; but it was used and known as the resting-\\nplace and tomb of all unsaleable books, dead as\\nsoon as born, which neither Mr. Folio nor any\\nof his brethren could force into circulation. The\\ncases and shelves literally groaned beneath their\\ndead weight, and spiders spun their webs over vic-\\ntims which had not life enough to break through\\ntheir fetters. Mr. Folio, who was unanimously\\nappointed by the public voice to usher these abor-\\ntions of the press into their dark abode, would\\nmost willingly have enlarged his store below, to\\nmake room for them, if they had not been too\\nweak to support themselves upon his counters.\\nMr. Folio was a business man, and, what is more\\nto the point, Mr. Folio was a peaceable man, a\\ngentlemanly and a very polite man. He was", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "70\\nTHE PLUME.\\nsomething of a scholar withal, and, if it had de-\\npended upon himself, every volume in this attic\\nwould have found a purchaser. He was not sup-\\nposed to have an enemy in the world, unless a few\\npoor authors, whose works he had published, but\\nwhich were lying snugly in his attic, could be\\ntermed such. He lost money to a considerable\\namount by these literary adventurers; and they\\ncomplained that they had lost their fame and rep-\\nutation through his means; but, as they had none\\nto lose, it is fair to presume that he was the only\\nsufferer. Such was Timothy Folio, Bookseller\\nPublisher.\\nThe adventure I am going to relate, which be-\\nfel this gentleman, whose memory I respect, will\\nhardly be believed, I dare be sworn, among even\\nthe most credulous and superstitious of my read-\\ners; and, had I not. the best possible reasons for\\nplacing full confidence in its truth, I should set it\\ndown at once as an improbable fable, ^sop, in-\\ndeed, made birds and quadrupeds discourse as\\nwisely as bipeds, but I confess that my belief in the\\neastern doctrine of metempsychosis is not so great\\nas to suppose the soul of a defunct author could\\npass into, and animate, a book, which died before\\nthe moist earth was fairly over his remains.\\nTowards the close of a summer afternoon, Mr.\\nFolio, wearing a long gown and red slippers, was\\nseated behind his counter, lookinsf over the sheets\\n4-^", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 71\\nof a new poem, that was to see the light in a few\\ndays. Owing either to the warmth of the atmos-\\nphere, or to some soporific quality in the poem, he\\nfelt uncommonly dizzy and sleepy, as he sat pen-\\ncilino; the margin of the leaves in his hand. At\\nlength he was so far gone, that the pencil fell out\\nof his hand upon the floor. He started, and\\nheard, or thought he heard, a considerably loud\\nnoise somewhere about his premises, as if a large\\nvolume or two had fallen to the floor; but as his\\nclerks continued writing, he supposed himself mis-\\ntaken, and, taking up his pencil again, was soon\\nlost in a comfortable nap. It was not five minutes\\nbefore the noise was repeated. He was on his\\nfeet in an instant. He thought at first that it was\\na gentle clap of thunder; but, as he listened, a\\nnoise like that produced by paper blown over a\\nfloor by the wind, came to his ears, which led him\\nto suppose something was out of place in his bin-\\ndery or printing-office. As he stood yawning and\\nrubbing his eyes, he was certain that he heard a\\nsound overhead somewhere, like the march and\\ntramp of a miniature army, and the sway and flut-\\ntering of its paper banners. It was certainly an\\nunusual noise. The clerks, being over head and\\nears in writing and casting up figures, merely\\nsmiled, when he asked them if they heard it, and\\nwere almost too busy to give him an answer.\\nFaith! said Mr. Folio, if the building were\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "4-\\n72 THE PLUME.\\nto tumble over their ears, they would never know\\nit. Something s to pay up stairs! The devil s in\\nthe attic among the books, for aught I know; I\\nmust go up and close the windows.\\nAs the old gentleman did not remember to have\\never heard such a noise before, he determined to\\ngive up his doze, and ascertain its cause. I do\\nnot know why he directed his steps immediately to\\nthe attic whether because he thought the wind\\nw^as creeping in at the windows and doing mischief\\nthere, or whether, from a lurking fear that, as the\\ncontents of that room had been the occasion of not\\na little malice and hard thought to himself, some\\ndisappointed author had found his way there to\\nwork mischief, or to hold communion with the lost\\nchildren of his brain, I know not; but certain it is\\nthat Mr. Folio did not stop till his hand was on the\\nlock of the garret door. He entered in a moment,\\nand the door closed after him. I question if ever\\na mortal was more astonished or put to his wit s\\nend, than he, when he found himself fairly in the\\nroom. An enchanter, who had suddenly evoked\\na legion of devils, when he expected the appear-\\nance of good spirits, could not have been more\\nconfounded, amazed, and perplexed, than was the\\nworthy bookseller.\\nAll the books in the room were in motion.\\nThey seemed to have legs and wings. They\\nwalked, ran, and flew, with as much ease and vigor\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24^-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 73\\nas their unfortunate authors could have done in\\ntheir best days. Mr. Folio, being weak in the\\neyes, put on his spectacles, to be sure that he was\\nnot deceived. Contrary to his expectation, the\\nwindows were all closed, so that not a particle of\\nair could gain admittance. Finding the room air-\\ntight, he was more at a loss and confounded than\\nbefore, and the sweat began to fall from him in\\nbig drops. If his hair did not stand on end, it\\nwas because the worthy gentleman s head was\\nbald, and his voice clung to the roof of his mouth,\\nunless a few quick ejaculations zounds! J\\nfaith! strange! whew! heaven i\\nto\\nand earth! can be considered as articulate\\nspeech. By degrees, he took a survey of the\\nroom. The bibles, poems, primers, dictionaries,\\nalmanacs, and novels, were dancing about, and\\nhurrying from their lazy resting-places, on the\\nshelves, cases, and stands, as if they were all de-\\ntermined upon one general and final circulation at\\nleast, to pay for their years of durance. What a\\nclatter of leaves, what a strange and contemptuous\\nhissing sound did these blind, maimed, and halt\\nchildren of the brain send forth! Though most of\\nthese volumes were as heavy as lead, yet they\\nwent through all their motions so lightly and ac-\\ntively that the floor seemed hardly to feel their\\nweight. They platooned, faced about, and\\nwheeled round, with apparently as much skill and\\n7", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "4-\\nI 74 THE PLUME.\\nscience as if they had been drilled to it by a hun-\\ndred reviews. As if determined to circulate, in\\nsome shape or other, Mr. Folio remarked that\\nmost of their motions were gyratory, a circum-\\nstance which surprised him not a little, as he well\\nknew they had never been in circulation at all.\\nIt seemed impossible for them to keep still a mo-\\nment, flying round and round, as though they were\\nanxious to convince him that they could show life\\nand animation enough if they chose, and were not\\nthe dull, stupid, and inanimate things he took them\\nfor. And, in truth, their movements in circles were\\nso dexterous, that if old Eternity himself, to whom\\nthey had been dedicated, at their birth, had sud-\\ndenly stepped in among them, to offer his protec-\\ntion, in his proper shape of a circle, he would have\\nsworn they had been well drilled in his service,\\nand were no fools in the art of circulation. Mr.\\nFolio dodged about as well as he was able, and\\nendeavored to stop their motions; but slap followed\\nslap so fast, and every inch of his body was so be-\\nset with blows, that he was fain to retreat, and sit\\ndown on an old chest, as a mere looker-on, to see\\nhow this singular matter would end. He hoped\\nhere to have a comfortable seat, upon which he\\nmight rest himself; for, what between slaps, blows\\nand astonishment, the worthy gentleman was not a\\nlittle exhausted.\\nUpon my word! said Mr. Folio, breathing", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 75\\nhard, this is the most singular thing I ever heard\\nof. I must make a memorandum of it. What\\nevil spirit can have possessed them. Would to\\nGod their authors could exhibit half their vitality.\\nWhile he was endeavoring to account for this\\nsingular behaviour, and to distinguish the identical\\nvolume which struck him on the nose, he heard a\\nslight tick beneath himself, and the chest, on which\\nhe was seated, sprang its cover, which, flying up,\\nsent him a rod across the room, and threw him in\\ncontact with an old Epic in three volumes. He\\nstarted round with his fist doubled, supposing very\\nnaturally that some one, who meant him ill, was\\nconcealed in it; but what was his surprise to be-\\nhold, issuing from the chest, a troop of reviews\\nand magazines, in blue and yellow covers, who\\ntook up the line of march around the room, into\\nwhich volume after volume fell by degrees. He\\nfollowed them about with his eyes, and, as he\\nstood, soon became the centre of a large circle,\\nwhich was filling up every moment and in perpet-\\nual motion. They went round in single, double,\\ntreple, quadruple, and sextuple file, according to\\nthe number of volumes of each, while a few old\\nnewspapers hovered over the scene, as if ambitious\\nof playing the part of standards. He was puzzled\\nto ascertain who was the leader, so closely were\\nthey huddled together, and so rapid was their cir-\\nculation. He inferred, however, that an old Epic,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "4-\\n76 THE PLUME.\\nin three volumes the identical one against which\\nthe chest had thrown him so unceremoniously\\ntook the lead, as he seemed to look about, now\\nand then, by way of surveying his troops, and\\nmake motions to the rest, as they wheeled round\\nthe apartment. He immediately seized a limping\\ndictionary, that stood on one leg upon a shelf, a dis-\\nabled but quiet observer of the manoeuvres of his\\nable-bodied fellow-prisoners, he seized this dic-\\ntionary, I say, and let it fly, with all his might, at\\nthe body of the Epic that seemed to direct the\\nmovements of all the rest. The first volume fell\\ndown, when springing up again in an instant, he\\nendeavored to regain his former place; but as his\\ntwo assistants or co-volumes were some way ahead,\\nhe made an effort to squeeze himself in between\\ntwo old psalm-books that were marching with the\\nrest, double file. Finding it impossible to do this,\\nhe stepped aside, and was soon joined by a troop\\nof light reading, old almanacs and novels which left\\nthe circle, and came on with stitched covers in a\\nsmart trot. At last the two remaining volumes of\\nthe Epic that had continued their march, missing\\ntheir mate, suddenly halted; upon which all the\\nrest were huddled together, some falling out of the\\nranks, some springing up, and all in the greatest\\nconfusion imaginable. They seemed to take very\\nlittle notice of Mr. Folio, and showing no disposi-\\ntion to attack him, as he expected they would do,", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 77\\nhe once more seated himself on the chest, ready\\nto await any motion, and desirous of seeing what\\nthese crazed fellows would do next. At last a vol-\\nume of old reviews sprang upon a table, and waved\\nhis hand in token of silence. He was a grim and\\nsavage-looking fellow, and cast his sharp eyes\\naround, as if he considered himself a judge who\\nhad power to enforce any sentence he might think\\nproper to pronounce. After stamping once or\\ntwice upon the table, he thus spoke in a sharp\\nvoice\\nFellow-prisoners, Epics, Novels, Essays, His-\\ntories, Almanacs, Poems, and all ye men of let-\\nters, who have been held in durance together so\\nmany years, by whatever name ye are called, I\\ndemand the reason of these strange movements.\\nSince my first entrance into this place, all has\\nbeen peace and quiet till this day. I was stationed\\nhere to keep you in order, and am sorry to see a\\ndisposition in you to revolt and break out of your\\nprison, I have done all in my power to prevent\\nit. Sentence of condemnation was passed upon\\nyou years ago, and I have in my pocket\\nHe was here interrupted by cries of Down\\nwithhim! Slit his leaves for him! Pitch\\nhim over! Dot his I s for him! Nail\\nhim to the counter! He made several attempts\\nto go on; but nothing could be heard save a few\\nbroken sentences, such as Damned again and\\n7*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "4-\\n78 THE PLUME.\\nagain A pack of fools If some of you\\nhad not strong covers, I would take fifty at once!\\nBack to your dens! He was finally obliged\\nto get down; and clapping a miserable little poem\\nthat stood near, shivering at the sound of his\\nvoice, between his covers, he mounted the highest\\nshelf in the room, and, by his looks, seemed de-\\ntermined to keep a dog-eared silence.\\nThe Epic in three volumes, before mentioned,\\ncalled to order, and when all was quite still again,\\nhe walked up, limping on his poetical feet, to with-\\nin a yard of Mr. Folio, while the rest were all\\nranged around, and thus, with an air of offended\\ndignity, addressed him\\nWell may you be surprised at our proceed-\\nings, to-day, sir! But we could bear it no longer.\\nHere have we been imprisoned for years, mere\\ndead weights upon your shelves in this old garret,\\nwhile our more fortunate brethren are lying in ev-\\nery parlor in the country. We have determined\\nto exercise our limbs, and change the postures in\\nwhich we have been lying on your shelves, buried\\nin dust, till a simultaneous spirit aroused us this\\nday. We feel persuaded that we shall yet have\\nour turn in traveling through the city, and visiting\\nforeign nations.\\nAs he pronounced the last sentence, the idea it\\nconveyed seemed too great for him. He strutted\\na little, clapped his covers, and seemed about to", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 79\\nrise. The dust flew about so much that it greeted\\nMr. Folio s nostrils, and he sneezed aloud three\\ntimes. At this they all started upright, and took\\na menacing attitude.\\nMr. Folio, continued the amazed Epic, this\\nis not a matter to be sneezed at. We have been\\nmost foully, cruelly, and unjustly treated; and, in\\nthe name of the offended tenants of this attic\\naround you, I call upon you to give us a conspic-\\nuous place on your counter below. Set your crit-\\nics to work to give us a lift, and you may depend\\nupon reaping your reward.\\nHere the Magazines and Reviews in stitched\\ncovers, which had issued from the chest, appre-\\nhensive that dangerous movements were on foot,\\nprotested by their gestures against this measure,\\nand seemed almost in the act of flying into the face\\nof the Epic.\\nSir, said one, we have all damned you\\nonce, and should not disturb you in your purgato-\\nry, did you not make such bare-faced and empty\\nboasts of your vain pretensions, by recalling to\\nyour recollection any unsavory passages. Here,\\nhe continued, opening his leaves in the face of the\\nepic, read this review and account of yourself\\non my fourth page.\\nAnd mine, said another.\\nAnd mine, and mine, cried six successive\\nnumbers.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "80 THE PLUME.\\nMiserable drivelers, cried the incensed Epic,\\nnothing but the contempt and oblivion into which\\nyou have fallen, saves you from my anger. What\\nwould have been your circulation, had you not\\nbeen upheld by the author of my being. Every\\nline of intelligence in your distorted countenances,\\nevery mark of expression, and every thing about\\nyou, by the help of which you gained your short-\\nlived reputation, you owe to my author and his\\nbrethren. Turn over some of your leaves and\\nread those immortal verses, the very quintessence\\nof his brain and fancy, which alone have given\\nyou vitality, and even the breath of life that yet\\nkeeps your bodies together. Review an Epic, in-\\ndeed! Why, you are not worthy to review my\\ntitle-page. Review me, forsooth Heavens!\\nwhat presumption.\\nThe Epic shook himself, till they all bounced\\nfrom the floor, none keeping their position but the\\nMagazines.\\nThough there were a great many controversial\\nand polemics in his attic, Mr. Folio did not look\\nupon the tame, lifeless, and inanimate poems\\naround him as belligerents. Their sensitiveness,\\nbravado, and menacing tone were to be expected\\nfrom their irritable race but he now began to fear\\nthat they would all fall to blows and fisticuffs, and\\npull each other by the ears. The Magazines and\\nReviews bristled up a little at first, upon hearing", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "THE TEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. SI\\nthe retort of the Epic; but, suddenly changing\\ntheir aspect, they set up such a horrible laugh\\nthat Mr. Folio thought they would shake them-\\nselves to pieces, and that their leaves would actu-\\nally fall from their covers. The whole assembly\\nseemed to take this in great dudgeon. They hud-\\ndled along, going this way and that, advancing\\nback first, and showing their soiled gilt names in\\nformidable array. They mounted each other s\\nshoulders, volume standing on volume, and pre-\\nsented a high wall to the eyes of the astonished\\nbibliopolist, shaped like a pyramid. While they\\nwere in this position, a little imp of a Satire\\nperched on the very top of the whole, begged a\\nmoment s hearing.\\nMr. Folio, he said, 1 have the names of\\nmost of these gentlemen in my pocket, and am\\nonly sorry that I did not come into the world\\ntwenty years sooner, that I might have enrolled\\nthem all on my pages. Most of them have been\\nimmortalized by my efforts, and I am sorry to find\\nmyself in their company. I am an old book-worm,\\nand am here only to shut their mouths, and keep\\nthem still. Whatever notice thev have attracted,\\nhas been owing to my humble self They have\\noften escaped, when my nails were upon them;\\nbut I have got them once more, as you see, sir,\\nunder me; and it shall go hard, old as I am, if 1\\ndo not keep them quiet forever.\\nV?", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "82 THE PLUME.\\nHe grinned horribly, showed his teeth, and, in\\nbiting the ears of a novel under him, bit his own\\ntongue, and fell to the floor. They all now dis-\\nmounted, and, treading over the prostrate Satire,\\nand on each other s heels, sprang into the window-\\nseats, upon the book-cases, chests, and old chairs,\\nand some of them stuck to the ceiling. A Novel,\\nthat straddled an old line, on which were hung\\nsome newspapers, demanded audience.\\nIt is a hard case, that I, Mr. Folio, a gentle-\\nman of wit and elegant manners, a person of fig-\\nure and parts, though possessing, I own, but little\\nbottom, it is hard, 1 say, that I should be caged\\nup here, and waste my precious moments in such\\nvile company. I was born to live forever; and\\nmy author s brains were squeezed into my pages.\\nIt is an everlasting shame to any age, that one of\\nmy consequence should not fulfil the expectations\\nof my author. Really, sir, it is too bad I never\\nhad but one kind look in my life, and that was\\nfrom a fashionable belle, who once lifted me from\\nyour counter, cut open a lew of my leaves, and\\ngave me a sweet smile, as she threw me down\\nagain. I would have given the world to have\\nknown what particular passage she was laughing\\nat. I wish that old volume of Magazines above\\nthere, had pressed me a little more lightly, as I\\nlay under him, for really I led a most miserable\\nlife in his company. As he spoke, he cast his\\nJ", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 83\\neyes upon the dead Satire on the floor, and, miss-\\ning his hold, fell down and gave up the ghost.\\nA Poem, in small duodecimo, now arose, and\\nbreaking loose from the covers of a Review that\\nheld him, stood before his companions, with an air\\nof great importance. He was evidently quite\\nyoung, and acquainted with the fashions of the\\nage. He bowed very gracefully, and, opening to\\nhis title-page, showed his author s portrait, done\\nin the best style of the art.\\nAs to this old gentleman, said he, pointing\\nto the Epic, and these sentimental dandies in the\\nworld of letters, bowing to the Novels, I con-\\nfess 1 think they well deserve their confinement, i\\nFor myself, I am content to remain here a little\\nlonger; for, my life on it, the day is near when I\\nshall go forth, and put to shame the critics and\\nreviewers. I maintain that every one has a right\\nto sing his own praises; for the glory redounds\\nnot to us, but to our authors. I was nursed with\\nthe greatest care; every foot, nay, every line of V\\nmy body was perfumed with the sweetest fragrance\\nof the brain. I was early taught to imitate the\\nbest masters of the school of poetry now in fashion.\\nThe graces presided at my birth, and I was chris-\\ntened with the greatest ceremony. As soon as\\nmy author s portrait was made to face my title-\\npage, to ornament my person, and to complete the\\nnumber of my graces, I was sent to my tailor s,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "84 THE PLUME.\\nthe book-binder s, measured, arrayed in an ele-\\ngant court-dress, and then ushered into the world\\nto gain my reputation. But, heavens I what a fate\\ndid I experience! I was sent to every editor in\\nthe city, I was advertised, but, miserable return\\nfor my author s generosity! not a single puff was\\nbestowed upon me; I was set down every where\\nas a dull and stupid fellow, without strength or\\nimagination. If 1 had been cloven-footed, I could\\nnot have been more positively damned. I had a\\nmind to commit suicide; but, having more respect\\nthan others for the reputation and the feelings of\\nmy author, I dragged out my existence on the\\ncounter, or was stuck up in the window for years,\\nwith my author s portrait to the street, in the shop\\nof Battledore, Shuttlecock Co. till finally I was\\nthrust away into this miserable place. That fiend\\nof a Review who sits grinning on the window-seat,\\ngave me a mortal stab, and hastened my entrance\\ninto the attic, as well as the death of my parent.\\nHe pined away and died. No one knew the rea-\\nson; but the manner in which I was treated, no\\ndoubt, brought him to his end. He was found\\ndead in his chamber, with the review in his hand,\\nwhich had treated me so rascally. The jury, who\\nsat on his body, gave in their verdict Died of\\ninformation in the hrain.^ He whined and whim-\\npered a little, and then continued: Thank\\nHeaven, and my author! I am not weak, but", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 85\\nstrong, and shall live forever, and I hope ere long\\nto show my strength. While uttering the last\\nword, he fell down from mere want of stamina,\\nand, in the fall, spoilt his author s picture.\\nThe speech of the Poem, whose vigor and vital-\\nity were so unfortunately belied by the event with\\nwhich it terminated, seemed to excite general\\nsympathy and commiseration. Six or eight Pa-\\nthetic Poems, and Sentimental Effusions, almost\\nwept themselves to tatters, bursting forth into\\nsighs and tears in this obscure garret, such as they\\nhad in vain endeavored to draw from the eyes of\\ntheir few solitary readers. There seemed to be a\\ngeneral condolence among the assembly with the\\nsufferings and fate of the Poem and his author;\\nand even the Reviews and Magazines relaxed a\\nvery little in their grins, when the poor, exhausted\\nPoem sunk down, and blasted his author s picture.\\nAnother little Poem, affecting to be a smart,\\ndapper gentleman, pricked up his ears a little,\\nas he observed the calm that had settled over\\nthe assembly; and, edging along between Psalm-\\nbooks, and a dozen tall and gaunt octavos, pre-\\nsented himself before the bookseller, and burst out\\ninto a loud and obstreperous laugh. This was\\nreceived by some of his fellow-captives as mis-\\ntimed, and with evident disfavor, but most of them\\nagain relapsed into their former state of feeling,\\nwithout any out-break, when they saw that he was\\n8\\n4", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": ".hJj*\\n86\\nTHE PLUME.\\ndetermined to obtain a hearing, at any rate. He\\nlaughed again, as loud as before, and, looking\\nabout in perfect good nature, thus spake:\\nI am content with my situation, Mr. Folio, and\\nam heartily obliged to you for taking me from your\\ncounter and thrusting me into this place. Your\\nkindness has spared me many hours of shame\\nand mortification. In a garret I was born, and,\\nplease Heaven! in a garret will I die, and give up\\nwhat little life is within my body. I have no pic-\\nture fronting my title-page, to show you, like the\\ngentleman who has just touched us up so patheti-\\ncally; for, to tell you the truth, my author was so\\nugly that he could not relish his victuals. I have\\nhad all manner of assistance in my time, but never\\nhad a long run; in fact, I had no run at all. If\\npuffs could have helped me, I should have been\\nexalted to the skies. I was called beautiful, glo-\\nrious, magnificent, grand, and even sublime. I\\nwas said to possess the fire of Homer, the sublim-\\nity of Milton, and the grace of Horace; but I am\\npersuaded that my sublimity and my beauty were\\nof a peculiar, unprofitable, and unpopular kind,\\nfor I could not become a favorite, notwithstanding\\nall the exertions of editors, and of my author. I\\nwas hushed into silence, and finally every voice\\nuplifted in my praise was put down, as if by\\ngeneral consent. It was in vain that my author\\nsent me to his friends in vain that he tore out", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "THE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS.\\n87\\nmy title-pages, one after another, putting new\\nones in their places, calling me the first, second,\\nthird, and even sixth edition. Heaven help my\\nauthor! for no mortal will; for my part, I know\\nnot what has become of him; though it is not ten\\nminutes since a little Drama strutted towards me,\\nand claimed to be my brother. I shook him off at\\nonce; as my author long since disinherited me,\\nand for five years has not opened me. In a word,\\nhe cut my acquaintance, without cutting my\\nleaves. He declared I had disgraced him, and\\nthat he would disown me. Truly, I think this is\\nno lie; and I have no doubt there are twenty as\\nbrainless fellows as I am, in this company, who\\nclaim to be my brothers, and who have all shared\\nthe same fate with myself\\nA great many voices were here heard, exclaim-\\ning Lost Beauty! are you there? poor fellow,\\npoor fellow! The Lost Beauty such was the\\nname upon the back of the Poem retreated to\\nhis hiding-place, to avoid acknowledging his rela-\\ntionship with the speakers.\\nSeveral others now came forward, and made\\nshort speeches, of a seditious character, declaring\\ntheir intention of leaving; this attic, and running\\ntheir chance of immortality in the wide world with-\\nout. An old Arithmetic stated the exact number\\nof days, hours, minutes, and seconds of their con-\\nfinement, and said a good deal about barter and", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "88 THE PLUME.\\nexchange. An old Algebra hammered out a set\\nspeech upon the infinite series, negative quanti-\\nties, and ad infinitum. An old Geography grew\\neloquent in describing foreign countries. An Al-\\nmanac talked of fine weather, who had not seen\\nthe sun for a score of years, and actually declared\\nthat all his predictions and observations would an-\\nswer for the current year, though by no means for\\nthe meridian of a garret. An old medical work\\nthought the health of all the tenants of the attic\\nrequired an immediate exposure to the air, but\\nwould by no means recommend blood-letting, as\\nthey were all so lean and thin. The Singing\\nBooks were all for psalm tunes, and one actually\\nwent through with Old Hundred. A few old mus-\\nty Quartos and Folios were for reposing forever\\non the shelves where they had lain so long, and\\ncursed the hour their rest had been disturbed.\\nThe Newspapers and Reviews were for maintain-\\ning quiet and order, and waiting patiently, till they\\nwere called to leave their present place of abode.\\nThey advised all the company to do the same, as\\nthey were evidently not long for this world. They\\nall continued however, to speak, and put forth their\\npretensions to reputation so fast, and there were\\nso many speakers at a time, that nothing could be\\nheard but voice upon voice, crying out for imme-\\ndiate deliverance from their prison-house. The\\nnoise seemed gradually to swell into one loud and\\n1^-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0f\\nTHE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 89\\nboisterous chorus. Mr. Folio clapped his hands\\nto his ears, and thrust forward his feet, as he\\nsaw them edging towards him, as if about to sur-\\nround him. Their voices, however, grew faint-\\ner and fainter, as they themselves became fainter\\nand more exhausted, and finally an old Dictionary\\nwas heard crying out, that all they said was mere\\nwords, words, words, and therein they were very\\nlike himself, only that every word had not a mean-\\ning. At last an odd volume of Milton, that was\\nlying on a shelf, got up, shook off the dust from\\nhis covers, looked around him, and immediately\\nlay down again, with his back to the company.\\nThis seemed a trifling circumstance, and yet the\\nslight noise, which he made, drew all eyes towards\\nhim, and, at sight of his old gilt name, they looked\\nmightily abashed and confounded, sighing the\\nwhile for some Paradise not Lost, and therefore\\nnot to be Regained. They all held down their\\nheads and were silent. Some skulked away, and\\nothers fell down prostrate at Mr. Folio s feet.\\nThe old volume of Reviews, who had endeavored\\nto restore order at the commencement of the up-\\nroar, thinking it a good time to complete his inten-\\ntion of sending the rebels to their shelves, left his\\nhigh place of retreat, and, alighting in the midst\\nof the disheartened company, began to lay about\\nhim in good earnest. Some went up, and some\\nwent down. The Fugitive Pieces all took to their\\n8", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "90 THE PLUME.\\nheels; and as the old fellow dealt his blows\\naround him, volume fell on volume, squeaking\\nand groaning, as if their last hour had come. He\\ntore the covers from the backs of a great many,\\nand seemed to aim at getting hold of those who\\nhad cried the loudest. In five minutes from the\\nmoment he began, they were all drawn up into\\na conical pile, upon the very pinnacle of which\\nthe Review mounted, and thus addressed Mr. Fo-\\nlio:\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nI have, finally, got these insolent fellows under\\nmy thumb, and, pray Heaven, they may now sleep\\nsoundly forever. Their exercise this day has been\\ntoo great for them, and they are now, as you may\\nsee, mere skeletons. Heavens! methinks they\\ngrow smaller every moment. I, at first, thought it\\nwould be best to knock their brains out; but I see\\nthey have fairly expended what little they had, in\\ntheir vauntings this day. As for me, it is not my\\nnature to live long\\nSo it seemed; for before he had finished his\\nwords, he fell down upon the pile as dead as the\\nrest of them.\\nMr. Folio arose, and called to one of his clerks\\nto assist him in replacing the books upon the\\nshelves. The clerk entered the attic, and was\\nsomewhat surprised to see him reclining on the\\nchest, and yawning, as if he had been napping\\nthree or four odd numbers of Magazines,", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "-4^\\nTHE DEVIL AMONG THE BOOKS. 91\\nplaced upon an old open copy of Fox s Book of\\nthe Martyrs, having served him as a pillow. He\\nsaw no books on the floor, but found them all neat-\\nly arranged on their shelves. Mr. Folio looked\\nsurprised in his turn, for he was certain the books\\nwere on the floor a moment ago. It was suggest-\\ned to him, that he might possibly have been dream-\\ning. But he denied that he had even been asleep,\\nand then proceeded to relate all that had hap-\\npened, just as he witnessed it. The clerk stared\\nand looked the old gentleman in the face, as if he\\nthought his head might be a very little deranged.\\nMr. Folio was angry at this incredulity, and de-\\nclared he would not hear a word against his state-\\nment, concluding with the assertion, that he was\\nready to take his oath of the truth of all he had\\nuttered.\\nAh, I see how it is, said Mr. Folio to the in-\\ncredulous clerk, they all went back to their pla-\\nces the moment they heard you coming. You\\nneed nt mention the matter to any one. I ll ship\\nall these fellows oflfto the trade sale; and while I\\nthink of it, Thomas, you may as well take down\\ntheir names, at once, so as to have them in sea-\\nson for the catalogue.\\nSo saying, Mr. Folio went down stairs, two steps\\nat a time, caught up his hat from the counter, and,\\nwith almost as rapid a pace as if he had been\\nshot out of a cannon, run to his house, which he\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "92 THE PLUME.\\nreached just as his wife was about clearing away\\nthe supper table.\\nEight o clock and the lamps lit! quoth the\\ndumbfounded bibliopolist, as he swallowed a cup\\nof tea What a short day is this! It seems as\\nthough the Devil had got into the books and every\\nthins: else this afternoon.\\nYOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN STREAM.\\nOh come to me here in this silent oflen,\\nFar away, away from the haunts of men,\\nWhere the wild flower blooms with beautiful hue,\\nAnd unfolds its leaves to the silver dew,\\nWhere the robin at morn and evening sings.\\nAnd sports on my bank with his glossy wings,\\nWhere the swallows fly low and gently skim,\\nDimpling my cheek, till the day is dim.\\nAnd the moon walks up to her throne of light,\\nMid stars, bright gems on the brow of night.\\nOh come at morn, when the blossoming trees\\nReceive the first light and the virgin breeze.\\nAnd their boughs, bending low, reveal the blue\\nWith sparkles of gold, as the sun gleams through\\nWhen rosy and pure is the sky above,\\nAnd the light, torn feather doth scarcely move\\nFrom the branch, where the goldfinch trims his breast,\\nAnd calls to his mate from her hanging nest", "height": "3451", "width": "1869", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "VOICE OF THE MOUNTAIN STREAM. 93\\nWhere the yellow-bird sings from his willow tree,\\nAnd the oriole flashes so goldenly.\\nOh come oh come I will lead thee away,\\nWhere far with their baskets the anglers stray.\\nAnd bend o er my banks for the wily trout,\\nAs, scared from the brink, he is darting about\\nOr with speckled skin on the grass is seen,\\nTo pant for his home in my waters green.\\nOh come to me now, ere the hum of men\\nHath broke on the ear of this peaceful glen.\\nOh come to me here in the burning noon,\\nI will sing thee a sweet and soothing tune,\\nWhen the air abroad is quivering quick,\\nWhen the pulse beats fast and the heart is sick,\\nAnd the weary fram\u00c2\u00ab, in the heat of day.\\nWould inhale new life in the shade, away.\\nHere s a grassy seat oh come with a book,\\nOr bring thee a reed with a baited hook,\\nOr the sweet summer wind, if thou choose to sleep.\\nLike a spirit of love, to thy cheek shall creep.\\nWhile the leaves of many a branching tree\\nWill shield thee from heat, refreshingly.\\nThe oak with its lofly and waving arms.\\nThe white, leaning birch, with its leafy charms.\\nThe graceful maple, with feathery skin,\\nHere weave a cool bower, and woo thee within.\\nAs their boughs above spread their arms of green,\\nAll mirrored below in my sparkling sheen.\\nOh come to me now there s a song in the trees.\\nTo gladden thy heart, and thine ear to please.\\nOh! come to me here, when the moonlight gleams\\nO er valley and hill, and o er dancing streams,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "94 THE PLUME.\\nWhen the stars mount up with a fervent glow,\\nAnd fresh is the moon-shiny air below,\\nWhen the robin hath sung his evening song.\\nAnd my waters in music dance along,\\nAnd glance on thine eye their swimming light,\\nNow dim and pale, now glowingly bright.\\nOh come to me then, I will breathe in thine ear\\nSweet music thy soul shall delight to hear,\\nThat shall teach thee to Heaven a hymn to raise.\\nAnd open thy lips in eloquent praise.\\nTHE MISSING STAR.\\nStar that on the brow of night\\nDidst, like a jewel, shine, when, to her throne\\nMajestical, in car of silver light.\\nMounted the regal moon\\nHast vanished from that glorious throng which keep\\nTheir vigils in the sky, when mortals sleep\\nGone, gone from human eye\\nHe, who first called thee, when together sung\\nThe morning stars, to take thy place on high\\nThe myriad orbs among,\\nHath bid thee roll through the blue depths away,\\nAnd gild new worlds with thy bright, golden ray.\\nAnd hast thou shone, lost Star\\nAmid that splendid company so bright\\nThat watched the birth of Time illumining afar\\nThe dark paths of the night", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "THE MISSING STAR. 95\\nWast there, when first young Time, upon his wing\\nArose, and all the heavenly choir did sing\\nO er Eden in her bloom,\\nDid thy rays fall, the groves of Paradise\\nTouching all goldenly, whose sweet perfume\\nFrom new-born earth did rise\\nDid Eve watch thee, when her first evening prayer\\nArose, and the grand hymn resounded there\\nWast thou that Eastern star\\nWhich o er Judea s hills did send thy ray,\\nThe beacon-flame that led the Magi far,\\nTo where the Saviour lay\\nAnd did the shepherds with their flocks, lost one\\nHail thee, bright pointing to the Infant Son\\nO er Calvary wast thou\\nThat awful hour, when, like a curtain, spread\\nThe darkness round when rocked the earth, and lo\\nWalked from their tombs the Dead\\nAnd did tliy light, lost, wandering star illume\\nThe shadowed earth, and shine athwart the gloom\\nDid sages of old time.\\nWho read the heavens, as a written scroll.\\nCall thee a nation s star, whose march sublime,\\nAnd fate thou didst control\\nDid thy light fall, when fell old Babylon\\nWhat nation s splendor hast thou dimmed, lost one\\nThou art gone and yet how few\\nOf earth s uncounted sons will miss thy light,\\n4", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "96 THE PLUME.\\nAs, gazing on the watchers of the blue,\\nThey read His power and might,\\nWho bids the stars arise, and bids them fall,\\nWhose word created and sustains them all\\nRoll on thou radiant Star\\nThy fall is not unnoticed there is One\\nThat guides thy motions in the depths afar.\\nAnd scans them from his throne.\\nThe comet s path, the sparrow in her flight.\\nThe course of worlds, and men, He guides aright.\\nTHE WESTERN MOUNDS.\\nRuins of ages gone\\nWhat pen has told the history of your birth\\nWhat record writ on page, or carved on stone,\\nIn some lost tongue of earth.\\nShall mark the day, when ye, old Mounds, arose\\nTime, Time alone, your secret can disclose.\\nChronicler of the Past\\nAnd of the Dead, deep buried in its caves\\nMagician at whose bidding, empires vast\\nAre hurried to their graves\\nWhat nations lived and died upon this spot,\\nWhose monuments outlived their ill-starred lot\\nFaint are thy whispers. Time\\nAnd yet a voice through ages gone I hear,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "THE WESTERN MOUNDS. 97\\nA sound of centuries, rolling out their chime,\\nThat, for a sigh or tear.\\nCalls upon the living in their power, whose tread\\nEchoes along the caverns of the dead.\\nWho saw these pyramids\\nFirst cast their shadows o er the forest green\\nWas it when earth was young, and morning s lids\\nWere opening on the scene.\\nWet with the dews creation s rosy dawn\\nHad sprinkled o er the fresh and blooming lawn\\nAre ye the silent graves\\nOf empires and of men, whose languages\\nWith those that spake them died on whom the waves\\nOf dark oblivion press\\nDid jewelled crowns here glisten on gray hairs\\nOr Vengeance lift her sword that never spares\\nCould the rude savage sing\\nYour history, old Piles Was the red child\\nBorn of a happier race, than any king\\nThat roamed the green wood wild,\\nWhen came the Genoese Where rolled away\\nThe star of Science with its heavenly ray\\nDid they, who reared you, scan\\nThe stars in their deep mystery and tell\\nThat all your glory yet should fade and wane\\nThat Time should sound his knell.\\nWhen all, save ye, old Ruins, from the spot\\nShould pass their deeds, their very names, forgot\\n9", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "98 THE PLUME.\\nSaw ye the noble streams\\nPoured from a thousand hills, whose waters danced\\nBrightly in the uprising sun s gay beams,\\nAnd man walked forth entranced,\\nIn all the freshness of creation s smile\\nRadiant, through balmy grove, and woodland aisle\\nTo the uprising sun\\nBowed down the men in worship to the bright\\nAnd solemn stars, that keep their courses on\\nThrough the still depths of night\\nOr did they kneel to the Eternal One,\\nAnd send their orisons to His high throne\\nTo idols, carved in stone,\\nWith strange devices, did they pour their prayer\\nAnd had no light along their pathway shone.\\nTo touch and kindle there\\nThe ray of heaven within them? Mid the gloom\\nDid no torch shine, to light them to their tomb\\nDid ages roll away,\\nSuns rise and set upon the hills and lawns,\\nUntracked, save by the lions in their play\\nWith the light-bounding fawns\\nWere the broad plains unpeopled the green bowers\\nThe lair of wild beasts in the midnight hours\\nLoud storms have riven the trees,\\nAnd Time has mingled their old trunks with earth\\nHave they passed o er you as the summer breeze,\\nWhich in the south has birth\\n\u00c2\u00ab4*-", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a04-\\nCLARA REVERE. 99\\nBraved ye the thunder s might, that scathed the woods,\\nAnd pealed its anthem through the solitudes\\nTime s Miracles Ye tell\\nOf human grandeur that hath passed away\\nYe have outlived earth s pageantry the knell,\\nWhich sounded its decay,\\nSent its loud summons forth to you, in vain,\\n{Still your broad shadows darken the green plain\\nCLARA REVERE, THE LITTLE BLIND GIRL.\\nAutumn! Beautiful, mellow Autumn! Thy\\ngolden tresses waving in the fields\\nPiling the sheaves,\\nTasseled with gold, or dressing in deep red\\nThe maples on the hills, or bearing on\\nThy basket laden with ripe fruit, as twere\\nTo grace thy bridal day\\nThou art, indeed, the Queen-Season of the\\nyear! Let others call thee sad, as they mark the\\ndecay of thy regal glories. Not so art thou to\\nhim, who reads thee aright, and listens, with a\\nChristian hope, to thy eloquent teachings. The\\ngreen leaves wither and fall to the earth, to min-\\ngle with the dust like those who sleep beneath the\\nsod of the church-yard. The kingly oak is stripped\\nL.cf\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "100 THE PLUME.\\nof its leafy glories, and the woodbine and honey-\\nsuckle, which so gracefully entwined their tendrils\\naround its decaying trunk, like a sweet child\\nclasping the neck of its father, no longer expand\\ntheir fragrant blossoms to the air. The purple\\ngrapes, which cluster so thickly along the stone\\nwalls and among the silver-leafed birches on the\\nhill-side, will soon be plucked, and the vines which\\nbear them rot in the earth from which they draw\\ntheir nourishment. The ripe harvest type of\\nthe good man s inheritance hereafter whose\\ngolden fruitage is ready for the reaper, the corn\\nand nodding grain, will soon fall before the\\nsickle, and the merry boys and girls, like Ruth in\\nthe barley harvest, gleaning after the reapers\\namong the sheaves in the field of Boaz, will gather\\nup the shocks and the scattered ears. But soon\\nboth the reapers and the gleaners will themselves\\nfall, and, like the harvest, be gathered into the\\ngranary which opens for all, and tarries not for the\\nripening of its fruits. The crimson and yellow\\ntints of the maples, which give so mellow and gol-\\nden a radiance to the landscape around, must soon\\nwither and fade and lose their brilliant hues like\\nthe thousand eyes which admire their surpassing\\nloveliness. The little flowers that lift their modest\\nheads in the gardens, and in the recesses of the\\nwoods, must give up their incense their delicate\\ncups wither, and their stalks mingle with the earth", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. 101\\nand yet they are lost not forever. They go but\\nfor a season, and shall re-appear with renewed\\nlife and vigor and beauty. In the new spring they\\nwill rise again from the sod which covers them,\\nand put forth their glories with a fresher perfume\\nand a more perfect splendor. The winds of Autumn\\nmay blow over the spot where they fell, and the\\nsnows of winter bury their stalks from the eye\\nand yet they are not gone. As the warm breezes\\nof April play over their beds and the gentle Spring\\ntouches their roots with her magic wand, they will\\nshoot up again and become the pride and glory of\\nthe field. It is for this, for this that I love thee,\\nbeautiful Autumn, with thy sunshine, thy shade,\\nand thy chilling blasts. If thou art sad and mel-\\nancholy, there is sweetness in thy very sadness,\\nand sunlight in thy sombre hues. How sweet and\\nconsoling the thought, that after the Autumn of\\nLife hath set in upon us, and closed our eyes\\nin death, we shall awake asain in an eternal\\nSpring beyond the grave. Not more certain are\\nthe rose and wild-flower to re-appear after their\\nwinter sleep, than are the flowers that bloom in\\nthe domestic garden and beautify the walks of life,\\nto spring forth hereafter in the garden of Paradise,\\narrayed in such glory as the tongue cannot de-\\nscribe nor the heart of man conceive. What\\nsweeter or more perfect symbol is there of man s\\nimmortality, than the flower-wreathed evergreen\\n9\\n|j\u00c2\u00bb", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a24^\\n102 THE PLUME.\\nthat climbs around his tombstone and sheds its\\nperfume over the sod beneath which he sleeps?\\nReflections like these rose involuntarily to my\\nlipSj as, in one of my evening rambles about the\\nvillage in which I had erected my editorial throne,\\nand from which I was in the habit of delivering\\nsage homilies and exhortations as often as once a\\nweek, I came, for the thousandth time, upon the\\nold church-yard. It was at the close of one of\\nthose enchanting days, known only to our New\\nEngland climate, when Summer and Autumn, min-\\ngling their balmy breaths into an atmosphere of al-\\nmost Elysian softness, seem to embrace and smile\\nupon each other with unwonted sweetness. The\\nrays of the setting sun glanced with their arrowy\\nlight from point to point, gilding every tombstone\\nand mound and modest shaft, with a brilliancy as\\ndazzling and golden as if it were an irradiation\\nfrom the confines of the better land.\\nAs I threaded the little avenues of the sacred\\nenclosure, and marked the crowded slabs and de-\\ncayed stones at the head of the graves of the vil-\\nlage dead, I could not avoid giving utterance to\\nthe language with which I have introduced this\\nsimple sketch. Strolling leisurely along the\\nwell-trod paths, now stopping to pluck a decaying\\nflower, or to decipher an inscription upon some\\nmoss-covered stone, I observed the old sexton at\\nhis customary labors with his spade. Near him", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "CLAKA REVERE. 103\\nstood a modest slab, of virgin whiteness, which he\\nseemed to regard with more than ordinary rever-\\nence, as, pausing from his work and wiping the\\nsweat from his forehead, he leaned upon his spade\\nto direct my attention to it.\\nWhat grave is that, my good friend? said\\nI, around which the drooping wild flowers\\ncluster so beautifully. They seem to linger near\\nit as though they were the peculiar guardians of\\nthe spot, and were loath to breathe their last in-\\ncense-offering to the sleeper below, and surrender\\ntheir holy trust.\\nThat simple slab, said the old man, is one\\nof the f^ew pardon me for saying so that I\\nlove to stop, in my labors, to gaze at. It records\\nthe name of her who is known as the Poor Blind\\nGirl. Just stoop down, if you please, and read\\nits inscription.\\nI did so, and read upon the little white slab the\\nfollowing simple but touching inscription\\nHERE LIES\\n1\\nCLARA REVERE,\\nTHE POOR BLII^D GIRL.\\nShe shall see in heaven.\\nWhat is her story? said I. Is it wild and", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^f*\\n104 THE PLUME.\\nromantic, or simple and without incident Was\\nshe in love?\\nShe was, but with her Father in Heaven,\\nsaid the sexton, with an impressiveness which I\\ndid not look for. It is a sad tale, and I cannot\\nbear to think of it. It was but yesterday that I\\nplucked a flower from her grave, whose cup was\\nclosed and opened not, as the warmth of the balmy\\nair played upon it. How like the fate of the poor\\ngirl was that little flower. If you will sit down\\nupon this stone, I will tell you her brief story.\\nSeating ourselves at the foot of the slab, the old\\nman gave me a sketch of the little sufferer, which\\n1 will relate, in my own way. Though brief and\\ndevoid of stirring or splendid incident, its very\\nsimplicity touched my heart and left an impression\\nthere which has often led me to seek the little\\nwhite slab in the village church-yard.\\nClara was in her sixteenth year, fair and beau-\\ntiful exceedingly. And yet it was not her personal\\nattractions alone, matchless as they were, which\\nconstituted her supreme loveliness. The beauty\\nof her soul was impressed upon every line of her\\nwitching countenance, and her heart, which was\\nlove itself, seemed to be imaged in the sunny dim-\\nples and smiles that nestled around her transpa-\\nrent cheeks and her budding lips. Blessed as she\\nwas, beyond most of her sex, with a fascinating", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. 105\\nexterior gay and high-spirited to an unwonted\\ndegree, she had passed most of her infancy and\\ngirlhood without being permitted to behold the\\nfaces of father and mother, or to admire those\\nbeautiful scenes in the natural world, of which she\\nmight be deemed the impersonation. So young,\\nso amiable, so beautiful, and yet, by a solemn vis-\\nitation of God, Clara was all but hopelessly blind.\\nSuch an affliction would have broken the spirit of\\nmost girls of her age, and blighted their hopes of\\nearthly happiness forever. Not so with Clara Re-\\nvere. Nature had blessed her with a sunny heart,\\nwhich lent its hues to every incident that marked\\nher innocent life. Her laugh was as [ree, and\\nrung as merrily, as that of any of the playmates\\nwho sought to administer to her happiness in her\\nprivation.\\nThere was one thing, above all, that contrib-\\nuted, in no small degree, to her gladness and\\ncheerfulness it was the idea, long cherished\\none which seemed to have taken possession of\\nher very soul, absorbing all her thoughts, form-\\ning the subject of all her dreams that she\\nshould SOON BE RESTORED TO SIGHT. In her\\nplayful hours, or in those moments of abstrac-\\ntion which would now and then suddenly come\\nupon her, while engaged in her sports, this one\\nidea this glorious hope, appeared to fasten upon\\nher with a tenacity which no returning sense of", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "106 THE PLUME.\\nher situation could undermine or weaken. To\\nprevent their daughter falling into a melancholy\\nstate of mind, and to keep up the buoyancy of\\nher heart, her parents had flattered her, perhaps\\ntoo often, with the belief nay, with the promise\\nthat she should soon be restored to sight. It\\nis not strange that, by degrees, her thoughts\\nbecame almost exclusively directed to the ful-\\nfilment of what she at last regarded as a sacred\\npledge from their lips. In her artless and some-\\ntimes touching conversations with her mother, she\\noften alluded to the promise of her restoration, in\\nlanguage which partook of the warmth and ear-\\nnestness of her soul, and borrowed its coloring\\nfrom that sweetness of disposition which so\\ncharmed those who saw her. Perhaps no specta-\\ncle sooner excites the sympathy of the beholder,\\nthan that of a young and beautiful girl in her sit-\\nuation. Her blindness rendered her trebly dear\\nand interesting to all.\\nIt was a beautiful evening in June. The wind,\\ndallying among the roses and honey-suckles which\\nclasped the pillars on the terrace in front of the\\nmansion, sported with Clara s dark ringlets, as\\nshe sat at the open window. Mrs. Revere had\\nbeen reading to her daughter a touching story of\\na bird that died imprisoned in its cage. She was\\ninterrupted by the frequent exclamation from her,\\nWas it blind, mother! was it blind! She", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "4-\\nCLARA REVERE. 107\\ntook up, for the thousandth time, the all-absorbing\\nsubject of her thoughts.\\nClara, my dear, said her mother, wishing, if\\npossible, to lead her mind from the subject which\\noccupied it, I have not heard you play this\\nmorning. The little bird, of which I have been\\nreading, could sing sweetly in the midst of its con-\\nfinement. Will you not give me one of your fa-\\nvorite airs?\\nO yes, mother, you will be so good to me, and\\nI shall see you so soon shall I not? What shall\\nI sing Shall it be sad, or merry as the note of\\nthe little captive in the cage?\\nSeating herself at the piano, Clara run her fin-\\ngers over the keys with matchless skill, and sung\\nthe following words, addressed by a blind scholar\\nto one who had alluded, in his presence, to the dark\\neyes of a beautiful sister, who tenderly watched\\nover him in his blindness\\nAnd did st thoa say her eyes are black\\nTheir glances ne er met mine.\\nAnd yet thy words this bosom rack,\\nTo see their light divine.\\nThose deep black eyes! Those deep black eyes!\\nFrom out whose star-lit heaven Love flies.\\nAnd did st thou say her eyes are black\\nOh! tell me, if her face,\\nLike Angels, doth no sweetness lack\\nAll love is it and grace", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "108 THE PLUME.\\nThose eyes must light a face most rare,\\nAs brightest stars gem skies most fair.\\nAnd didst thou say her eyes are black\\nAnd is her heart all love\\nAnd doth their light bear to and back,\\nSweet thoughts, like carrier dove\\nThose deep black eyes! Oh! could I see\\nTheir silken fringes turned on me\\nAnd dost thou say her eyes are black\\nHer spirit, like them, pure\\nOne that might tempt an angel back.\\nHer beauty to adore\\nOh! tell me, if I e er shall see\\nThose angel glances beam on me\\nAnd dost thou say her eyes are black\\nTheir lustrous orbs may shine,\\nThough not for me, o er life s dull track\\nThey never may meet mine.\\nOh! not for me those eyes of jet\\nTell her I ll dream they sparkle yet!\\nTell her I ll dream I see their light\\nE en though no random ray\\nMay ever, from their starry night,*\\nSmile on my darkened way.\\nAnd tell her, in my visions sweet,\\nI will not dream we ne er shall meet!\\nOh Night\\nLovely in your strength as is the light\\nOf a dark eye in woman, Childe Harold.", "height": "3481", "width": "1849", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. 109\\nTell, tell her when life s dream is o er,\\nI ll crave her angel kiss,\\nIn brighter lands, with love more pure\\nThan that I ve felt in this;\\nYes, tell her, when life s ties are riven.\\nOh bliss I ll see her smile in heaven.\\nDuring her performance of this little air, Mrs.\\nRevere, who had thus been the innocent means of\\ngiving a fresh vibration to the tenderest chord in\\nher child s bosom, turned her eyes away to conceal\\nher emotion. When Clara had concluded, she\\nrose, with one of her sweetest smiles, and threw\\nherself into her mother s arms.\\nOh, mother! when will it be? When will the\\nday come you have so often promised me that\\nI shall look out upon the green world of which\\nyou speak, and admire its beautiful things\\nits flowers and the gay birds that sing so sweetly\\nEvery thing can see but me when will it come?\\nSoon, soon! will it not, mother?\\nAre you not happy, my daughter?\\nHappy! Oh, yes, yes! but, mother, me-\\nthinks I should be happier, if I could look up into\\nyour face and see you smile should I not?\\nThere is the little rose which you planted under\\nthe window; you told me last year I should gather\\nits first blossoms, and admire its beautiful color,\\nand now it is summer again, and every one has\\n10\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "110 THE PLUME.\\nseen it but me. The birds sing, but I see them\\nnot.\\nMy dear Clara, do not repine and grieve at\\nyour misfortune. We will hope for the best, and\\npray that you may soon be restored to sight.\\nWhat if I should tell you that the physician may\\nbe here to see you, to-morrow?\\nWill he, mother! oh, will he? almost\\nshrieked the little girl.\\nThe physician was expected to come the next\\nday and perform an operation upon her eyes. Mrs.\\nRevere had kept this intelligence from her daugh-\\nter till the last moment, from an unwillingness to\\nflatter the poor child with any false or delusive\\nhopes. She was restrained also from breaking the\\nnews to her, from an apprehension that, should the\\noperation be unsuccessful, and the chance was\\nvery slight that it would be otherwise, so sudden\\na blight of her heart s yearnings and hopes, which\\nhad acquired intensity from the nutriment that\\nyears of affection had administered would prove\\nfatal and strike down the little sufferer from their\\nside. It is impossible to describe the effect of the\\nannunciation of the intelligence upon her. Her\\nsimple exclamation of delight gives but a faint idea\\nof her feelings at that moment. Her cheeks crim-\\nsoned suddenly, and she wept for joy. Mrs. Re-\\nvere was alarmed.\\nMy daughter!", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. Ill\\nOh, will he! did you say so! will he, then, re-\\nstore me to sight? Then I shall see you, mother.\\nI shall see the robin that has sung for so many\\nyears at morn and evening upon the old elm tree,\\nwhose sweet song I have almost got by heart.\\nDay after day I hear father s step as he comes up\\nthe path, and sweet is the sound. But I shall see\\nhim now! I shall see him. Oh, tell me, mother,\\nhow does he look. Is his face as kind and pleas-\\nant as he talks? Shall I then see, see to-morrow?\\nOh, do not, DO not disappoint me this time,\\nMOTHER\\nI\\nThus did the sweet girl run on, delighted, en-\\nraptured, almost frantic with joy.\\nMy sweet Clara, you must not raise your\\nhopes too high. Be assured that your father and\\nmother would make any sacrifice that would re-\\nstore their daughter to sight. Were it possible,\\nthey would either of them consent to be blind, that\\nyou might see. The physician will come to-mor-\\nrow, but you must not expect to see immediately.\\nIt may be months it may be\\nOh, say not so, say not so, dear mother! I\\nwill undergo any thing for my sight endure any\\npain without a murmur, that I may not only hear\\nyour voice, but greet your smiles, and see you\\nwelcome me to a new life. Oh, say not so,\\nmother.\\nSuch artless, natural, and unaffected language.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "112 THE PLUME.\\nwas inexpressibly touching to her, whose very ex-\\nistence seemed bound up in her only child. Her\\nfeelings on such occasions can be but faintly im-\\nagined.\\nClara, my dear, you must be calm, and we\\nwill pray that the skill of the physician may restore\\nyou to sight.\\nI will! I will, mother! but oh, do not, do not\\nDISAPPOINT ME THIS TIME.\\nSuch expressions went to the mother s heart.\\nMrs. Revere, as I have said, was apprehensive that\\nClara would attempt to grasp too suddenly, too ea-\\ngerly, at what perhaps might not be realized, that\\nher thoughts would centre upon nothing but the\\nidea of her complete restoration to sight; and oh!\\nif their prayers and wishes should not be crowned\\nwith that blessed consummation, which they hoped\\nand for which they so ardently prayed, she trem-\\nbled lest bitter disappointment should follow, and\\nlead to a settled and confirmed melancholy, that\\nwould either dethrone her reason or send her to\\nthe grave. Her exclamation, do not disappoint\\nme, was repeated earnestly and often, after the\\nbrief conversation detailed, and when, the next\\nday, the physician was announced, whom Clara\\nhad fancied that she heard coming to her relief in\\nevery step towards the house, she burst into an\\nalmost uncontrollable gush of tears.\\nMrs. Revere, speechless with grief and wholly", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. 113\\nunable to control her emotions, while witnessing\\nthe frantic delight of her darling child, as she\\ndwelt upon the prospect of seeing, and of seeing\\nHER, took her husband by the hand, and, without\\nspeaking a word, entered an adjoining room.\\nThere they knelt together, and offered a fervent\\nsupplication to the Almighty that the operation\\nabout to be performed might, in his good pleasure,\\nlead to the restoration of their beloved child, and\\nthat she might not be lost to them forever.\\nIn a darkened room this beautiful girl was seat-\\ned, accompanied only by her parents, while the\\nphysician commenced the performance of his cure.\\nThe operation was painful in the extreme, exceed-\\ningly difficult to perform, and of a very delicate\\ncharacter. It was a last resort, and the submis-\\nsion with which this girl of fifteen bore up under it,\\nwas astonishing and admirable. She was calm,\\nand scarcely a murmur escaped her lips. Every\\nthing was at last happily completed, and a bandage\\nwas placed over her eyes. The remedy was not\\ncertain, but the chances were greatly in her favor,\\nthat it would be completely successful not im-\\nmediately, but in a few weeks, at most. On one\\npoint, however, the physician had warned her pa-\\nrents, freely telling them that if their child was not\\ncalm and quiet, and especially if she were to tear\\nthe bandage from her eyes, her case would be be-\\nyond human skill, and her eyesight be lost forever.\\n10*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "114 THE PLUME.\\nIf she were extremely careful, they were assured\\nthat she would, in all probability, be able soon to\\nsee. Soon to see! The thought of it thrilled\\nthrough her soul, imparting a new existence to the\\npoor girl.\\nThis was glorious news to Clara so delightful\\nthat the warning, which accompanied it, was lost\\nupon her ear. Hardly had the operator depart-\\ned ere she began^to discourse of her returnins:\\nsight. Seated in the chair, which she was cau-\\ntioned not to leave, she almost shouted with de-\\nlight, and longed to bound, in the excess of her\\njoy, into the room, and clasp her parents to her\\nbosom. They had at last fulfilled their promise,\\nand light was about to dawn upon her eyes. She\\nwould sing some fragment of a song, that she had\\nI learned, and call for her mother and father to\\nI stand close to her side, and place the canary birds\\nI with their cage, and the rose and geranium in a\\nI chair by her that when the glorious moment ar-\\nrived, she might first open her eyes upon the dear-\\nest objects of her heart.\\ni It appeared, indeed, as if all her bright hopes\\nwere realized at once. Years seemed compressed\\ninto a single moment of inexpressible joy. She\\nI spoke, with a full heart, of the pleasures in which\\nshe should indulge of visiting her playmates,\\nconversing with them, and, most of all, seeing them,\\nface to face. It was no moment to think or even", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. 115\\nbreathe of disappointment. But, alas! how often\\ndoes some dark shadow suddenly fall upon our\\nhopes, when they are the highest and brightest, to\\ndispel and eclipse them forever! Her feelings be-\\ncame so wrought up, and she so longed to see,\\nthat suddenly, at a moment when her spirits were\\nmost excited, and regardless of the voice that had\\nwarned her, she tore the bandage from her eyes, as\\ninnocent smiles played upon her lips, with the\\nheartfelt exclamation, I must see, I must see\\nyou, 3iother!\\nAll was dark and dim as midnight to the poor\\ngirl. Her feelings and those of her mother, so\\ndifferent in their character, at this moment, must\\nbe left to the imagination if indeed they can be\\nfully imagined. Who shall number the bright\\nhopes that were thus suddenly eclipsed!\\nClara, my own Clara! exclaimed the moth-\\ner, in the anguish of her heart.\\nHow could you disappoint me, mother! For-\\ngive, oh, forgive me Dark dark dark!\\nAU-seei7ig God, forgive me!\\nThe once gay and beautiful Clara Revere is no\\nlono-er amonor the living:. For several years after\\nODD\\nher sight was hopelessly gone, and disastrous\\neclipse had fallen upon her in the manner I have\\nnarrated, blighting her hopes and her blissful\\ndreams, she lived entirely shut out from the world.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "116 THE PLUME.\\nShe still retained her surpassing beauty, but cheer-\\nfulness had passed away from her spirit forever.\\nThe joys of earth seemed to have been as sudden-\\nly stricken out from her heart, as the light of\\nheaven from her eyes. Her parents, it may well\\nbe supposed, were almost inconsolable at the\\nmournful spectacle, which their daughter exhibit-\\ned. Every effort to restore her former buoyancy\\nand gaiety was unavailing. Her heart was brok-\\nen, and although\\nThe stricken heart,\\nLike to the bleeding bird that cannot sing,\\nAnd bathe its pinions in the golden air,\\nWill live, and live, and brokenly live on\\nShe seemed no longer to have a wish that she\\nmight be restored to sight, or even to live. Occa-\\nsionally, indeed, the light of the expiring taper\\nwould flicker up, for a moment, and then as sud-\\ndenly die away. As she was, sometimes, led out\\nupon the lawn in front of the house, and caught\\nthe music of the birds or inhaled the fragrance of\\nthe flowers, she would give utterance to a passion-\\nate exclamation of delight and joy, and then, as if\\nsome heavy affliction were casting its shadow over\\nher spirit, she would sink into her former sadness,\\nand sorrow would be imaged in every line of her\\nbeautiful countenance. If at such times you had\\npassed the cottage at the foot of the hill, you might", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "CLARA REVERE. 117\\nhave seen a little girl, whose duty it was to lead her\\nby the hand or watch her footsteps, reading from\\na thumb-worn volume, as they sat beneath the old\\nelm; and if you listened attentively, you would\\nhave found the volume to be the Bible, and that\\nshe was reading of the blind man who was re-\\nstored to sight. Her health and delicate frame at\\nlength gave way under the blight and disappoint-\\nment which had fallen upon her, and the poor\\nthing was consigned to the grave, at the foot of\\nwhich we are sitting. She had but few of the\\npleasures of life but few of the treasures of this\\nworld, but she had laid up in heaven riches which\\nare incorruptible, and which cannot pass away.\\nYes, the little blind girl will see in heaven; and\\nwho shall say that she is not even now looking\\ndown upon us from her blissful abode, as we min-\\ngle our tears by this simple slab which marks\\nher burial-place.\\nIt is a sad tale, said I, as the old sexton end-\\ned his recital, and if you will pluck me a flower\\nfrom her grave, I will cherish it till its cup closes,\\nand it withers in death, as a symbol of the sweet\\ngirl who sleeps beneath the sod upon which it lav-\\nishes its fragrance.\\n*This little sketch is by no means a creation of the fmicy. The main\\nfeature of it, at least that which represents Clara as tearing away the\\nbandage from her eyes, that she might see her mother the first nioinent", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "118 THE PLUME.\\nTHE TRIUMPHS OF LABOR.\\nSung at the Twelfth Triennial Festival of the Massachu-\\nsetts Charitable Mechanic Association, at Faneuil Hall,\\nOctober 6, 1842.\\nStout Hearts who guard the starry banner,\\nThat streams our glorious Union o er\\nBold spirits chant, with loud hosanna,\\nLabor s Triumphs on the sea and shore\\nSay shall the Hero s deeds of glory,\\nHis blood-stained spirit wed to Fame\\nAnd the victories of Peace your name\\nEnshrine not in the heart of story\\nPress on Press on, true men\\nWho make the earth smile bright\\nWith Labor s magic arm and wand\\nThe broad world feels your might\\nNature s Noblemen whose honor bright\\nIs the best guardian of your fame!\\nWhat sceptred fool, with proud birth-right.\\nCan match ye in your deeds or name\\nYour sceptre your true arm uplifted,\\nTo fell the oak that builds his throne\\nYour empire Nature s broad realm alone.\\nYour law your own strong minds, high gifted.\\nPress on! Press on! c.\\nshe was restored to sight is true to the letter. The child, whose hopes\\nwere thus suddenly eclipsed and blighted, in her excess of joy at seeing\\nher mother, resided not far from Worcester, and her parents are still\\nliving.\\nt^", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "THE TRIUMPHS OF LABOR. 119\\nThe pine-tree, from the forest springing\\nRides old ocean like a thing of life,\\nAnd, proudly out your hanner flinging.\\nStems the surges of the battle-strife.\\nThe kingly oak, no storm that bendeth,\\nBows crownless down lo spring roof and wall,\\nFrom rock and jewelled mine, majestical,\\nAs Toil her magic wand extendeth,\\nPress on! Press on! c.\\nThe loom comes forth the bright lights kindle\\nAnd the music of the dashing stream\\nSingeth your praise the busy spindle,\\nWith cunning hand, weaves it in its theme.\\nGod s first Temples, all art excelling.\\nYour touch transforms, like Genii s lamp of gold,\\nTo poor man s palace, Avith hearts ne er cold,\\nAnd splendid Misery s heartless dwelling.\\nPress on Press on c.\\nBethink ye of that god-like spirit\\nWhich nerves strong hands, and true hearts feeds\\nAye be the blood your sons inherit,\\nEnnobled but by noble deeds\\nYour Franklins and your Fultons cherish,\\nExplorers of the realms of mind\\nEarth s treasures though ye search and find,\\nThe mind s wealth only cannot perish.\\nPress on I Press on c.\\nMild Charity is Labor s brightest\\nJewel, that decks her moistened brow\\n4.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "120 THE PLUME.\\nShe sweetens Toil, and makes that lightest,\\nWhich but for it the aching head would bow\\nThe orphan s tear can ye forget it\\nThe widow s prayer oh, will ye spurn\\nFrom the memory of your comrade turn\\nWithin your heart of hearts ye ll set it.\\nPress on Press on c.\\nBrave Hearts who guard the starry banner,\\nThat streams our glorious Union o er.\\nWell may ye chant, in loud hosanna.\\nLabor s triumphs on the sea and shore;\\nBoast Earth s Mightiest none more splendid\\nJoint offspring of mind, and heart, and hand\\nThe Builders of your own Fame ye stand\\nYour deeds with stainless glory blended.\\nPress on Press on I c.\\nLAY OF THE SOLDIER S BRIDE.\\nRecently set to Music, and published by C. H. Keith.]\\nMany a string hath the harp of Fame,\\nWhich sweetly trills on Beauty s ear.\\nBut the one that sounds the soldier s name\\nAnd daring high, of all is dear.\\nEver bright his sword and true as its steel,\\nHis heart to his land, her glory and weal.\\nOh the Muse of Song will breathe in vain\\nSoft music from her rose-lipped shell.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0f\\nLAY OF THE SOLDIEr s BRIDE. 121\\nUnless she wake her loftiest strain,\\nThe soldier s fame-wrought deeds to tell.\\nEver bright his sword, and true as its steel,\\nHis heart to his land, her glory and weal.\\nThey may twine with wreaths the statesman s brow,\\nTo Glory bright may wed his name,\\nBut though dear the shrine Avhere others bow,\\nGive me the soldier s deathless fame.\\nEver bright his sword, and true as its steel.\\nHis heart to his land, her glory and weal.\\nAnd oh sweet may be the golden light\\nO er all its paths which Genius sheds,\\nBut sweeter far is the radiance bright,\\nThat streameth where the soldier treads.\\nEver bright his sword, and true as its steel,\\nHis heart to his land, her glory and weal.\\nGloweth pure and bright the mountain air\\nThat waves the gallant soldier s plume\\nAnd young Freedom s torch, if dimmed its glare.\\nHis bosom s fire will quick relume.\\nEver bright his sword, and true as its steel,\\nHis heart to his land, her glory and weal.\\nOh, sweet each string on the harp of Fame,\\nO er which young Love doth sweep her fingers\\nOver that which sounds the soldier s name\\nAnd noble deeds, she longest lingers.\\nEver bright his sword, and true as its steel,\\nHis heart to his land, her glory and weal.\\n11", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "122 THE PLUME.\\nTHE DEATH OF WOLFE.\\n[Recently set to Music, and published by C. H. Keith.]\\nHark hark the booming cannon s roar\\nThe tread of armies rushing\\nDeath rides the fearful battle o er,\\nAnd see the warm blood gushing.\\nMid sounding trump and clashing gun,\\nThe hero spurs his comrades on.\\nHis banner waving o er him.\\nWild, wild and deep as ocean s wail.\\nThe cry of brave men dying\\nThe plumed warrior, faint and pale,\\nUpon the red sod lying.\\nMid roll of drums, and plunge of steed.\\nAnd trumpets sounding, though he bleed,\\nHigh waves his banner o er him.\\nAnd wilder yet that battle din\\nThe last deep summons sounding\\nThe prancing war-horse, o er the slain,\\nAt the dread blast is bounding.\\nMid fire and smoke that wrap the dead,\\nThe bleeding warrior bows his head\\nHis shroud, the banner round him.\\nLow chant the sad and solemn dirge,\\nFor the young hero sleeping", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "THE FIRST ROBIN OF SPRING. 123\\nHe sees not on the battle-surge,\\nVictory her vigils keeping.\\nShe lights upon his sword and steel,\\nHails the loud trumpet s stirring peal,\\nAnd waves her banner o er him.*\\nTHE FIRST ROBIN OF SPRING.\\nBlithe warbler of the Spring!\\nEre the glad earth puts on her robe of green,\\nAnd braids her damask tresses, thou art seen\\nOn the old elm to sing.\\nOh, whither from the storm,\\nThat in its revelry the forest bowed.\\nDidst thou betake thee, far from busy crowd,\\nTo hide thy slender form\\nHid from the eye of day,\\nDidst thou seek shelter in the wood s recess.\\nAlone, alone within the wilderness.\\nFar from thy mates away\\nThe death of the gallant Wolfe, on the Heights of Abraham, at the\\nhead of his victorious grenadiers, and in the very moment of victory,\\nhas been cited by the historian as one more to be envied than that of\\nany other hero in the annals of military glory. His reply, as he fell, ex-\\npiring in the arms of a comrade, when assured the enemy were retreat-\\ning from the field, is memorable Then, my boya, I die content.\\n4.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "4-\\n124 THE PLUME.\\nSwept the loud tempest by,\\nTearing the feathers from thy shivering breast,\\nAnd pelting thee from thy warm, sheltering nest.\\nOn the bare oak-bough high?\\nAh it were vain to search\\nWhere thou from winter s cold didst find a home\\nBut glad I see thee, so familiar, come.\\nAnd near my window perch.\\nYet, in thy wintry flight.\\nHis hand did watch and shield from harm thy form.\\nWho guides the sailor in the ocean storm.\\nAnd the bright stars of night.\\nHow many years thy song\\nHath poured its music on my slumbering hours.\\nWhen morn s first breath doth wake the blushing\\nflowers.\\nBearing their sweets along.\\nAh I now thy strain I hear.\\nAmong thy mates, poured from thy warbling throat.\\nFilling each grove with thy gay, cheerful note,\\nSpring s feathered pioneer\\nI love to hear thee sing.\\nWhen summer groves are glistening in the dew,\\nAnd gleams, in morning s mingling gray and blue.\\nThy brown and glossy wing.\\nThou callest to thy mate\\nTo perch upon thy favorite breezy tree.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "THE FIRST ROBIN OF SPRING. 125\\nAs floats to heaven thy grateful minstrelsey,\\nWith happy heart elate.\\nAnd when the crimson glows\\nGaily, along the soft and mellow west,\\nThou teachest to thy young, within their nest,\\nThy song at evening s close.\\nOh, sing thy gladsome note,\\nWhile May her chaplet of bright, budding flowers\\nWeaveth o er hill and plain; through her green\\nbowers\\nLet thy sweet music float.\\nSing, when the golden light\\nGleams in the blushing east at morn oh sing.\\nWhen dew-drops sparkle on each growing thine,\\nAnd on thy wings, so bright.\\nWarble thy song, spring bird\\nWhen tinted flower-cups open to the sun\\nAnd the light breezes waft thy music on,\\nBe thy sweet carol heard\\nAnd when, at eve again,\\nLingers the freighted air the groves among,\\nTo Him who shelters thee, thy vesper song\\nChant in one happy strain\\nThere is that to thee given,\\nWhich teaches man to hymn his Maker s praise,\\nAnd his faint soul from cares of earth to raise.\\nTo the pure joys of heaven.\\n11", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "I\\n126 THE PLUME.\\nA SHORT CnAPTER ON LONG EARS.\\nEar him ear him ear the honorable member\\nCry of a Cockney at the Hustings. l\\nI am a true son of the Puritans, and, of course, j\\nan admirer of all long-eared gentry. Talk of a j\\nlarge nose the joke is in having long ears. The i\\nnose is a sneaking, neutral sort of a fellow, who\\nseats himself plump, right in the middle of the\\nface, selecting the best seat for himself; but the j\\near takes one side or the other, generally both\\nsides, and, therefore, must be in the right. The\\near is, also, the most important functionary of the\\ntwo; for a man s reputation is often at the mercy\\nof the ear, but never of the nose. These organs,\\nthese side-intelligencers, as Charles Lamb\\nsomewhere calls them, have been sadly abused,\\nand most shabbily cuffed in modern days. Novel\\nwriters will discourse eloquently, while describing\\ntheir heroes or heroines, of the color of their hair,\\nthe shape of their noses, the turn of their lips, the\\nexpression of their countenance, and chase a smile\\nor a dimple from one cheek to the other; but not\\na word of their ears. Not one of Scott s heroes\\nor heroines have ears; or, at any rate, it is a mere\\nmatter of inference with the reader, whether they", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "A SHORT CHAPTER ON LONG EARS. 127\\nhave or not. In ancient times, it was the custom\\nof females to suspend jewels from the nose as well\\nas the ear; but with the advance of civilization,\\nthe former were dropped, and the ear only was\\nraised to this dignity. This is about the only cus-\\ntom we retain from an uncivilized age as worth\\nkeeping; and it shows, as plainly as the nose on\\none s face, or as the universal consent of all na-\\ntions, wise and unwise, can show, that the ear\\nis the master organ of the human frame.\\nSurvey mankind, from China to Peru,\\nwith Dr. Johnson, and it will be seen that this\\nhonorable member has not always been treated as\\nshabbily as it is now. If we may believe Sir John\\nMandeville, (and he had great credit with Colum-\\nbus,) the people of a portion of China have such\\nlarge ears that they use them for cushions. Sir\\nJohn himself used his own for a night-cap, as I\\nread in a volume before me; and we have the\\nword of Montaigne, sceptic as he was, that in Pe- j\\nru large ears are esteemed a great and most beau-\\ntiful ornament. It is as well settled, I believe,\\nthat Homer had large ears, as that he was an\\nearly riser. Commentators do not agree whether\\nthe one-eyed Polyphemus had one or two ears.\\nSome assert that the escape of Ulysses is proof\\npositive that he had but one, and offer in evidence\\nthat while in the cave the latter kept himself al-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "128 THE PLUME.\\nways in the direction of the earless side of the gi-\\nant s head, and thus, being unheard, effected his\\nretreat.\\nIn Rome, the females wore jewels of every des-\\ncription in their ears, and the men wore chains.\\nThey thought so much of this organ, that they did\\nnot tap a man on the shoulder, as we do, to draw\\nhis attention, but were accumstomed vellere au-\\nrem, to pull him by the ear, whence, probably, our\\ncustom of boxing the ears is derived. I can easily\\nimagine Juvenal clapping both hands to his ears,\\nwhen, in a passion at the stupidity of the poets,\\nand the sensuality of the profligates of his time, he\\nexclaims, at the opening of his satire, semper\\nego auditor tantum still must my ears\\nThe family of the Aurelii were named from the\\nlargeness of their ears, as any etymologist may\\nsee at once; and I could hardly refrain from\\nbreaking out into a horse-laugh, a few days ago,\\nas, bearing in mind this circumstance, I was read-\\ning an account of a traveler, who stated that, while\\nwandering among the ruins of Pompeii, he stopped\\nto examine an inscription on a door of the house\\nof Aurelius, and disturbed a whole nest of ear-\\nwigs! Shakspeare, among other things, is sup-\\nposed to have known something of human nature,\\nand, of course, was well aware of the great value\\nthe Romans set upon their ears. Strange that an\\nunlettered player should know so much of the real-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "A SHORT CHAPTER ON LONG EARS. 129\\nities of the world, and of the Roman world, too.\\nWhat an exquisite allusion to the value the Ro-\\nmans placed upon their ears, there is in Anthony s\\nspeech over the body of Caesar,\\nFiiends! Romans! Countrymen! lend me your ears\\nI\\nEars were scarce in Rome in later days; and\\nwe have some insight into the mode of punishment\\nadopted by the Roman governors in the time of the\\napostle, from his frequent exclamation, Let\\nthem who have an ear to hear, hear!\\nAn old writer tells an amusing story of a witty\\nknave, who went to an old woman, in London,\\nand bargained for as much lace as would reach\\nfrom ear to ear. When the price was settled, he\\ntold her he believed she had not quite enough in\\nher shop, for one of his ears was nailed to the pil-\\nlory at Bristol. Many an Englishman went to his\\ngrave, in the sixteenth century, with but one ear,\\nleaving the other nailed to the pillory to look after\\nhis reputation. Then was the glory of ears in\\nEngland, when they had the honor of christen-\\ning millions, and became more prominent by the\\nblack velvet scull-caps which gave them the name\\nof prick-eared puritans.\\nThere are certain modes of speech, that break\\nout, now and then, in spite of prejudices and one s\\nteeth, which show the importance that is almost\\nuniversally, but tacitly, attached to this honorable", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "130 THE PLUME.\\nmember, (pardon us, Senators!) We say of one\\nwho has the confidence of a great man, that he\\nhas his ear; and 1 can very readily enter into\\nthe astonishment of a Frenchman, but little ac-\\nquainted with the English language and its idoms,\\nwho, upon being told of various members of the\\ncabinet that had the ear of the Executive,\\nasked the precise length of the Executive ears, or\\nif he had more than the common number. We\\nask if such a one has an ear for music; but it\\nwould be deemed disrespectful to the supremacy\\nof the ear, if we were to ask if one had a nose for\\nsmell, or a leg for walking. We speak of a man s\\nfalling over head and ears in debt, or in love,\\nthus placing those flankers of the head next to\\nthe head itself Combatants are, also, described\\nas falling together by the ears. I once heard\\na person assert, seriously, that, rather than cheat\\nanother, he would cut off his finger nails. I\\nshould have placed more confidence in the fellow, if\\nhe had said he would lose an ear. In some stages\\nof society, the laws would be satisfied with no less\\nthan an ear thus showing the importance of this\\norgan; and it is only in the highest degree of civ-\\nilization and refinement that they demand the\\nwhole body; but I never heard that they would\\ntouch the nose. Law-makers, however, it may be\\nadded, by the way, if not the laws themselves,\\nhave, now and then, shown a disposition to tweak", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "KATE AND WILL.\\n131\\nthe nasal organ of the human face divine; and\\neven the statutes have sometimes demanded that\\none of the hands should be thrown in, by way of\\nmaking up the full complement of justice.\\nSmall ears are said to denote what is expressive-\\nly called stinginess; but I have known men with\\nears as large as those of Midas, who would spoil\\na hatchet to cut a copper into half cents, and were\\nunwilling to pay for the instruments to make them\\nwith. I am not in the same category with Cow-\\nper, who says that Nature,\\nThough ears she gave me two, gave me no ear;\\nbut as the reader, probably, has concluded, by this\\ntime, that my own ears are long enough, I shall\\nnot trouble him with any farther description.\\nKATE AND WILL.\\nTHEIR UNHAPPY LOVES AND SAD METAMORPHOSIS.\\nRecently set to Music, and piiMished by C. H. Keith.]\\nOh dear, sighed Will Willow, there s no rest in my\\npillow,\\nKate teazes and vexes and bothers me so\\nShe laughs as she calls me her poor weeping Willow,\\nAnd, though she will swear I m a hopeful young fellow,\\nWhen I ask for a kiss, tut she s sure to say No\\nI m dying, oh, oh yet she s sure to say No.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "132 THE PLUME.\\nCries Kate Dear, I m sorry, but pray, what can I do\\nI have lots of prime lovers wherever I go\\nIf on dying your set, have a decent set-to,\\nI will lend you two ribbons, go, hang till you re blue\\nI ll know hoAv it feels to have two strings to my beau,\\nTwo strings to my beau Oh oh still I say No.\\nOh, surely this Love is a dangerous fellow,\\nA sly, arrant thief, who will rob and will steal\\nHe never takes No, and behaves very ill oh\\nHe breaks into parlors and kitchens. Will Willow,\\nAnd he breaks into hearts, as I m sure you must feel,\\nYou must feel, oh, oh, still I m sure to say No.\\nOh, yes, cruel Kate, he is a sly rogue, I know\\nThere is something gone here that each moment I miss\\nAnd strange freedom he takes with both coquette and beau,\\nSo pray, pardon him, Kate, if while stealing things so,\\nIn despite of your No, he thus steals but a kiss.\\nBut a kiss, oh oh Tis too late to say No.\\nSo, quick as a flash, he sought the rose of her cheek,\\nThere, take that, and take that in a passion Kate\\ncried,\\nIf such favors you want, tis not here you must seek.\\nAnd she gave him two boxes, so sharp and so quick.\\nOn his ear, that poor Will, oh, he moaned and he sighed,\\nYes, he sighed, he sighed Oh, oh, would I had died.\\nOh Kate, I could bear it, if you only had chid\\nI have loved you too well, but you treat me too ill,\\nFor you smote both my heart and my ear, yes you did", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "KATE AND WILL. 133\\nWould a bird I could be, in the green forest hid,\\nWhere you could not come near, no, nor whip your\\npoor Will.\\nHow you whipped poor Will, all alone would I trill.\\nAnd I I too, Kate cried, with a toss of her head,\\nThan be wooed in this fashion, and do as you bid,\\nI d be an insect, I would, and like an old maid.\\nForever scold in the woods, how rather than wed.\\nShe did whip her poor Will, yes she did, Katy did,\\nEver prate how she did, yes, Kate, Katy did.\\nNow, sly Cupid no sooner their fond wishes heard,\\nAs the quarrelsome lovers each other thus chid.\\nThan, ere they once thought, he took them both at their\\nword.\\nChanging Kate to an insect, and Will to a bird,\\nTo rehearse their complaints in the deep forest hid.\\nThere ever to moan, whip poor Will Katy did.\\nIf you stroll to the woods, you may hear what they say\\nAt it early and late, they the old story trill\\nKaty did Katy did Katy s tongue wags away,\\nWhile moaning Will answers, as he hops on the spray.\\nAnd the tears trickle down from his eyes to his bill,\\nWhip, whip, whip poor Will, whip-poor-will, whip-\\npoor-will.\\nNo coquette, would they say if to speak not forbade\\nHer lover should whip, as whip poor Will Katy did\\nNor he venture too far Avith a young or old maid,\\nLest doomed they both be to pine away in the shade,\\n12", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "134 THE PLUME.\\nWith scarce any repose to their tongue or eye-lid\\nAnd moan without mates, Whip-poor-will Katy-\\ndid!\\nThe note of the Katj -did is generally heard, I believe, on the edge of\\na summer evening, and that of the Whip-poor-will very early in the\\nmorning, though not unfrequently at night. Should any critical reader sup-\\npose there is any incongruity in bringing the two together, and making\\nthem respond to each other, I must quote the authority of Drake, whose\\nopening lines, in that beautifully imaginative poem, The Culprit Fay,\\nmust have long been familiar to every admirer of American poetry.\\nAnd nought is heard on the lonely hill,\\nBut the cricket s chirp, and the answer shrill\\nOf the gauze-winged Katy-did,\\nAnd the plaint of the wailing Whip-poor-will,\\nWho moans unseen and ceaseless sings,\\nEver a note of wail and wo,\\nTill morning spreads her rosy wings.\\nAnd earth and sky in her glances glow.\\nKate and Will are here made by the poet, it is true, to utter their re-\\nsponsive notes on the classic banks of the Hudson but they may be\\nheard in almost every part of New England, complaining of each other\\nin the same never-varying duett. The former scolds in a somewhat\\nlouder, shriller, and more energetic tone than her old lover a circum-\\nstance, by the way, which some ill-natured old bachelors attribute to\\nher being named from one of the softer sex. It is said, however, by nat-\\nuralists, who have looked into the matter, that Will has an impediment\\nin his speech, occasioned, either by his repeated attempts to out-talk his\\ntesty companion, before their melancholy transformation, or by his con-\\nstant exposure to the damps of the night and morning air, in which he is\\nmiost frequently obliged to be out. However this may be, the com-\\nplaining couple may be heard, in all the New England States, at the\\nproper season. The reader need hardly be told, that a very large and\\nrespectable community of Kate s ancestors and family connections has\\nbeen established, from time immemorial, in Maine. Indeed, their con-\\ncerts in that State have immortalized one of its proudest mountains, by\\ngiving to it the entire family name, Katahdin, which is merely an abbre-\\nviation oi Katydidian.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "H^\\nA RARE VISITOR. 13(\\nA RARE VISITOR.\\nThou com st in such a questionable shape\\nPry thee, see there Behold Look Lo\\nIf I stand here I saw him. Hamlet.\\nThere are some people in the world who enter\\nan editor s sanctum with as much freedom and\\nfamiliarity as if they were themselves the lords\\nof his little empire, and had been formally installed\\nupon the editorial throne. They will seize his\\nsceptre the pen omnipotent from his very\\nhand, and brandish it before his eyes with all the\\npride of sovereignty. They will lay violent hands\\nupon the regalia of his office, and not unfrequent-\\nly trample them under foot in the very presence\\nof royalty itself Nor do their spoliations always\\nstop here. They cast wistful eyes upon all the\\nparaphernalia of papers and prints, which may hap-\\npen to lie upon his table or decorate the walls of\\nhis little palace, as if their fingers itched to appro-\\npriate them. Indeed, I have known individuals of\\nthis class so oblivious in the excess of their delight,\\nas to thrust some of the editor s precious belongings\\ninto their pockets, or, it may be, bear them off in\\nhis presence, with all the pomp of a conqueror dis-\\nplacing the trophies of victory. Among his visitors\\nsome rather queer and comical specimens of hu-\\nmanity will, of course, occasionally drop in, either\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "136 THE PLUME.\\non business or for the laudable purpose of whiling\\naway an hour in familiar chit-chat with the presid-\\ning Genius of the place. I do not speak particular-\\nly of individuals belonging to the denomination of\\nDuns and Bores, as they are technically termed\\nby the fraternity. These, indeed, are a privileged\\nclass, and will find their way into the sanctum\\nthrough the key-hole, although the occupant may\\nhave locked himself in and put the key in his pock-\\net. I refer, also, to those well-meaning persons,\\nwho, having bestowed what they are pleased to call\\ntheir patronage, to the enormous extent of a quar-\\nter s subscription in advance, conceive that they\\nare, in consequence, entitled to a free pass at all\\nhours of the day, and of the night to boot. One\\nhappens in for the express purpose of passing the\\nthe time of the day, or, what is the same thing, for\\nno purpose at all. Another is desirous of being\\ninitiated into the mysteries of the craft, or, perhaps,\\nof seeing the printing office go. A third will\\ncome in for the excellent reason, that his curiosity\\nand extreme anxiety for the editor s welfare, will\\nnot allow him to keep out. But I must not forget\\nto introduce to the reader one or two visitors\\na little out of the usual way.\\nBeing in somewhat of a drowsy mood one eve-\\nning just as day was thinking about putting on his\\nI night-cap, I leaned my three-legged chair against\\n1 the wall, and, by way of a soporific, began to look", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": ",H^\\nA RARE VISITOR. 137\\nover the most delightful of all books upon an edi-\\ntor s table I mean that, of course, containing the\\nlong catalogue of delinquents. My little room had\\nbeen almost crowded, during the day, with speci-\\nmens of the various classes of visitors, to whom I\\nhave just alluded, and I felt in no very amiable\\nmood. I had written no editorials, and some one\\nhad stolen my scissors. Six or eight patrons also,\\nhad run away without paying their bills, whose re-\\nspective delinquencies were to be transferred to\\nthe Profit and Loss page in the Ledger. In ad-\\ndition to these vexations, a large note fell due on\\nthe morrow, which must be met at all hazards. As\\nI sat endeavoring to drive these unpleasant mat-\\nters from my mind, and, if possible, fasten my\\nthoughts upon something that might place me in\\nbetter humor with myself at least, a slight tap was\\nheard at the door, and in stepped a bright-eyed girl,\\ncourtesying and blushing like a full-blown rose.\\nAre you the editor, sir? said she, in almost a\\nwhisper, as she closed the door and looked around,\\nas if to be sure there was no third person present.\\nI am that happy mortal, said I, offering the\\nonly chair in the room.\\nNo, I m obliged, sir, I believe I will not sit\\ndown, as my business is pressing. Do you publish\\nhere, sir?\\nPublish! Oh yes we do almost anything in\\nthat line.\\n12", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "138 THE PLUME.\\nWell, sir, I I want that is, I should like\\nto have you publish me, sir, continued my fair\\nvisitant, not a little confused, and in a low voice.\\nYou! Publish you! My dear girl, our press\\nwill do most anything but, publish! did you\\nsay?\\nYou see, sir, I I am going to be I hope\\nthere s nobody to hear, sir said she, looking\\nunder the table, and blushing You, see, sir,\\nI m going to be married there, it s out now!\\nIndeed I am very happy to hear it, and if\\nI can help you at all\\nWhy, sir, they told me the editor would do all\\nthe publishing, and that I must be sure and call\\nhere first. I m sorry to trouble you, sir.\\nOh, my dear girl, said I, seeing her confu-\\nsion Dont be alarmed. I assure you there is\\nsome mistake there is, indeed. 1 can publish\\nalmost anything but girls. That is a little out of\\nmy line. If you will step over to the Town Clerk,\\nhe will do the business for you.\\nO dear Sir, excuse me, I beg. I thought the\\neditor did all kinds of publishing.\\nWe do but, still, this particular kind belongs\\nrather to the Town Clerk. When he and the par-\\nson have done with the couple, we clinch their\\nwork, if I may so say, that is, we take the happy\\nones out of their hands and set them off in the\\nworld. In fact, our publishing begins just where", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "A RARE VISITOR. 139\\ntheirs ends. After you are married to your inten-\\nded, my dear, I shall be most happy to marry you\\nagain in the paper. This is all the relief I can\\npossibly give you, in the way of publishing.\\nDear me What a mistake! said she, blush-\\ning redder than before, and courtesying, as she\\nopened the door I ll go right off to the Town\\nClerk s; but I beg, sir, you wont say anything\\nabout my mistake in your paper and, when I do\\nget married, I ll send you a nice piece of the wed-\\nding cake, I will. Good day, sir.\\nAnd away she tripped, leaving me in much better\\nhumor than I had been before her entrance.\\nI had hardly bowed my fair visitor out of the\\nroom, before in walked a young man, in great\\nhaste, and somewhat out of breath, who, taking\\nout his pocket-book, demanded, in rather an im-\\npatient tone, a receipt for ten years subscription!\\nTen years! Ten, did you say? exclaimed I,\\nstaring at him incredulously, and doubting the evi-\\ndence of one of my senses, at least.\\nYes, ten! Five back and five ahead, in ad-\\nvance. The truth is, sir, I and the little romp, who\\nhas just stepped out, are about forming a life co-\\nI partnership, and she insists, as the very first arti-\\nI cle in the contract, that I shall be on good terms\\nwith the editor, or else she will never be on good\\nterms with me, married or not. She this moment\\nstopped me in the street, to insist upon this, and", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "140 THE PLUME.\\nmade me promise to call in and see you, immedi-\\nately. I have just been into the*Town Clerk s, to\\nget published, and, if 1 dont hurry, I believe, upon\\nmy soul, she will go in there herself, and get the\\nbusiness all undone again.\\nThrusting the receipt into his pocket, he hurried\\nout, and overtook my blooming visitor just as she\\nwas entering the Town Clerk s office.\\nI was so much astonished and taken aback by\\nthis last operation, that it was not till after half a\\ndozen counts, that I could satisfy myself the money\\nwas all right, or indeed that I had not been dream-\\ning the while. Having counted it over a seventh\\ntime, and carefully placed the godsend away in\\nmy desk, I determined to have a little nap in\\nmy chair, after the fatigue of the day. I, accord-\\ningly, locked the door of my sanctum on the in-\\nside, took a cioar, and, leaning back against the\\nwall again, began to congratulate myself that I\\nwas rid of visitors for the day, and to speculate\\nspeculation was all the go, then upon the times.\\nA spider on the ceiling was cutting capers with a\\ndaddy-long-legs, and, having bitten off a couple of\\nhis legs, let him go again.\\nSo it is, thought I, watching the maimed in-\\nsect, as he endeavored to limp from the scene of\\naction, the tallest of us must knock under to the\\niron gripe of the speculator. Ten dollars a barrel", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00ab4^\\nA RARE VISITOR. 141\\nfor flour! The banks blowing up! A shilling a\\ndozen for eggs! How the hens will cackle!\\nTwenty five cents for butter! How the cows will\\ncaper! Fifteen cents for bacon! How the hogs\\nwill squeal And only nine shillings for a coun-\\ntry newspaper, and grumbling at that No cash\\nno cash C-a-s-h Oh, Cash How omnipo-\\ntent art thou If thou wouldst but deign to make\\nthy appearance here if, O Cash\\nChink! chink! chink! said a little silver\\nvoice, somewhere in the room.\\nStarting from the slight doze into which I had\\nfallen, and looking about the apartment, I ob-\\nserved, through the smoke-wreaths that curled\\nso gracefully around, a dapper little gentleman\\nnear me, with a couple of huge bags upon his\\nshoulders. His appearance was rather singular.\\nDressed in rags, from head to foot, he wore a sil-\\nver beard trailing upon his breast, had a gold ring\\non his finger, and his phiz or what I could see\\nof it shone like a bran new dime. When seen\\nthrough the smoke, his face looked almost as yel-\\nlow as if he had a seven years fit of the jaundice.\\nDid you call me? said the ragged, bushy\\nlittle gentleman, setting down his bags, and help-\\ning himself to the stool upon which I had cocked\\nmy editorial perpendiculars. How he got into the\\nroom, unless through the key-hole, is more than\\nI know.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "142 THE PLUME.\\nCall you? Not I some mistake! said I,\\npuffing a whifFor two in his face.\\n^Not at all! I know better! You did call me.\\nEditors will lie so! [What an impertinent chap!\\nthought I.] But, no matter, 1 dont always come\\nwhen summoned. Give us your hand! I m going\\nSouth.\\n**The deuce you are Well, what of it?\\nOh, nothing particular only I thought you d\\nlike to know it, [oh ho he s some old subscriber\\ncome to pay up,] and publish the fact in your pa-\\nper. I m going to make myself scarce. Come\\nyour hand before I go.\\nSeizing my dexter, he gave it a gripe not a\\nvery hard though a cordial one and was about\\nshoulderino; his bag s to be off. In the name of\\nall the delinquent subscribers in the world, said\\nI, [but I said it to myself,] what tag-rag and\\nbobtail fellow is this He s a curious specimen\\nof something, any way an oddity, and I might\\nas well have some further chat with him.\\nStop! don t go yet. You say you are going\\nSouth, hey?\\nExactly! Every body goes South no\\\\y, you\\nknow. Any commands?\\nGot a a family I suppose?\\nA family! ha! ha! ho! ho! he! guess you d\\nthink so! Why, I ve got more children of one\\nsort and another, than you can shake a stick at in", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "-hJj*\\nA RARE VISITOR. 143\\na century, my little fellow! [Little! quotha; what\\nimpertinence Why, I am full six feet, when free\\nfrom the cramp.] You laugh but I ve got some\\nthousands of my darlings tied up here in these\\nbags. Chink! chink! chink! Don t you hear\\nthem laugh at ye? A family! He! ho! hum!\\nThat is a good one! Yes, that I have! I m the\\nvery prince of lovers, and all the girls run after\\nme, ragged as I am. Why, I m the crack father\\nof the day.\\nAnd a little cracked in the upper story, Mr.\\nRags.\\nI let the fool run on, and laugh as much as he\\nchose. Observing that he was evidently out of his\\nsenses, and a candidate for the Lunatic Asylum,\\nwhat was the use of getting in a passion.\\nMr. a what s your name Ragmuffin\\nhow many of your likely family are girls?\\nHa! ha! ha! You want to marry one of my\\ndaughters, do you? Ragged as I am, I can give\\nthem a good setting out.\\nHow many ve you got?\\nOh, donno ha! ha! ha! as to that. Never\\ncounted em can t count em! The old women\\nhave acted so like the deuce, in years back, with\\nsome of my eagle-eyed offspring, tucking them\\naway in ol4 stockings as curiosities What you\\ngrinning at, sir? [I laughed outright, in the fel-\\nlow s face.] No matter, I m in hopes to raise up", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2(Jh-\\n144 THE PLUME.\\na precious set of yellow boys soon, but donno as I\\nshall succeed.\\nYou don t, hey! Pray, how old do you call\\nyourself?\\nOld! ha! ha! ha! Oh, only about three thou-\\nsand years, more or less I instinctively looked\\nat his lower regions for a cloven foot.\\nYou are a merry devil, any how.\\nThat I am and yet I ve been treated shab-\\nbily enough to make any one sober. I ve been\\nregularly buried in the earth ever so many thou-\\nsand times but some of my friends have always\\nhunted me up, and brought me to life again. Many\\nof my children, too, have had their ears clipped\\noff, been horribly beaten, and knocked down under\\nthe hammer. Then, again, rogues have tried to\\npass off their counterfeit brats for my resplendent\\nprogeny. I wish you could see one of my daugh-\\nters, after she has passed from one hand to anoth-\\ner, had a regular rubbing down, ay, and her\\nbright face flattened to boot. I ve been drowned,\\ntoo, and had a narrow escape from sharks several\\ntimes of late. Don t I smell a little of salt water?\\nRather more of brimstone. Where do you\\nlive, if one may be so bold; that is, when you are\\nat home?\\nLive! ha! ha! ha! what a question! live!\\nquotha Oh I live every where and no where\\nany how and no how. I can live in a thimble, in", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a24^\\nA RARE VISITOR. 145\\nan old drawer, squeeze myself into an old boot or\\na lady s slipper I m not at all particular. I can\\nsleep in the clutch of the miser, or the reticule of\\nthe dazzling Beauty who leads up the dance. I\\ncome at t!ie earnest call of the poor man, and\\nbring comfort and good cheer to his fireside. I\\nbear healing to the sick, ay, and balm to the\\nwounded heart and the broken spirit. At one\\nwave of my wand, the desert smiles and the wil-\\nderness blossoms like the rose. The log-house ex-\\npands into the regal palace and the princely hall,\\nalong the paths where my heavy foot has trod. I\\nperch on the brow of kings, and shine there like a\\nstar in the forehead of the sky. I can take a\\nthousand shapes, and find a home, with any of\\nthem, in palace or cot. I always start at a law-\\nyer s whistle. I am the magic wanderer, and\\nhave no particular abiding place. But, at the\\nsame time, I have a private country residence in\\nalmost every village, and several splendid mansions\\nin all your cities, where I draw my children about\\nme as fast as I can get them in, and always find a\\nwelcome lodging. People are sometimes in too\\ngreat a hurry to get me out, and, for aught I know,\\nwould pull down my own house about my ears, if 1\\ndid not stand firmly on my own bottom. What the\\ndeuce you giggling at, sir?\\nD ye know you are crazy, Mr. Merridevil?\\nYou talk as crooked as a corkscrew, and as poeti-\\n13\\nr", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "5\\n146 THE PLUME.\\ncal withal as the champagne it sets sparkling in\\nthe glass. You must be love-cracked I\\nNo more than you are! I know what I m\\nabout. You are cracked with love of me or some\\nof my bright-eyed daughters. Cracked! ha! ha!\\nha! Crackee! Why, look here, I m an old crony\\nof the Rothschilds and the Barings. I m hand-\\nand-glove with most of your great men. Were\\nI to give you a letter of introduction to one of\\nmy correspondents, he d fork over the shiners for\\nyou, that is, unless the shiners should happen to\\nhave forked him over, a thing which will befall\\nthe best of them, occasionally, in spite of all my\\nwarnings.\\nPoor devil! are you worth any thing?\\nOh a trifle. I ve enough to pay my expenses,\\n\u00c2\u00abs I go along. I suppose I might buy up your\\nwhole continent, if I said the word and a good\\nspeculation I could make of it.\\nHow wildly an insane fellow will talk, when he\\ngets a going! There is no end to his castle-build-\\ning.\\nIf you are so well off, Mr. Yellowface, why\\ndo you go South?\\nWhy some of my children, I fear, are not\\ndoing very well, there. Their dwelling places are\\nhard run upon, and I must go to look into matters\\na little. Speculators find they can t do without\\nthem but they are pushing them too far. I", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "4-\\nA RARE VISITOR. 147\\nMUST go. Natural affection spurs me, if nothing\\nelse. I am afraid, as it is, I shall be too late to\\nsave them from a general smash. It is too bad.\\nBut I mean to be back here again soon among my\\nold customers, and wander up and down through\\nthe country, as lively as ever. I am a great hand\\nfor being among active people; I make business\\nbrisk; and, again, business always keeps me in a\\nhealthy complexion. I am not naturally an an-\\nchorite though some fellows would like to keep\\nme locked up in a strong box forever.\\nWhy he talks sensibly and coherently enough\\nat times. If it be madness, there s method in\\nit, thought I.\\nWill you believe it I have been seen so\\nrarely, of late, in this quarter, that some very par-\\nticular friends of mine, the moment I was caught\\nout, seeing that my silver beard was rather long,\\nhave, not much to my liking, given me a tremen-\\ndous shaving. You see there s more left to shave\\nyet.\\nYes, I see there is. Why don t you take a\\ntumble over Niagara Falls, to get your senses\\nstraightened out!\\nPooh! Some of my children are under the\\nwater there, to be sure but I shan t trouble\\nthem. D ye know I was one of the greatest\\nthieves in the world? Ha! ha! ha! You start;\\nI, or some of my children, have been imprisoned", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "148 THE PLUME.\\nabout half our days. I m a regular bred pick-\\npocket that s half my trade.\\nI insensibly thrust a hand into my own pocket to\\nsee if all was right there.\\nA pick-pocket in prison hey how d you\\nget out?\\nGet out! Why, my friends took me out, to\\nbe sure. Yes, I ve had my hands in every body s\\npocket, and drawn out their purses v hen I chose.\\nI ve fingered your pocket a hundred times, and I\\nmean to do it again before I leave you. I start-\\ned at this annunciation.\\nThe d you do? You are wise to give\\ntimely notice but you are welcome to all you\\ncan find, Mr. Impertinent. What else can you\\nboast, in that line?\\nWhy, there is not a store or counting-room\\nwhich I have not entered, day and night, for the\\npurpose of taking away whatever I had a fancy to.\\nI can have my pick of the goods. at any time, and\\nthe seller does nothing to hinder me. He is always\\nglad to see me, though I sometimes make heavy\\ndrafts upon his pockets. I don t like to boast, but\\nI am the most popular customer merchants have.\\nThey wink at my stealing, in every nook and cor-\\nner of their stores. An old fellow, calling himself\\nLongcredit, or some such name, has lately made\\nme a little unpopular and driven me at a distance.\\nBut chink! chink! chink! that s my music. I", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "A RARE VISITOR. 149\\nhave half a mind to introduce you to some of my\\nbright-eyed and golden-haired daughters, on the i\\nspot. I\\nThere is one firm, he continued, that al-\\nways keeps its head above water, with which I J\\nhave many dealings. Do you wish to know what i\\none it is? J\\nRun on, old boy, I have nothing to say; only,\\nif convenient, keep within gun-shot of the truth, l\\nsaid I, thinking it best to humor the feilov/.\\nThere is one firm, I say, that always lifts its\\nhead the higher in the tornado which prostrates\\nothers, and gathers strength from their weakness\\nand prostration. Its existence dates from the very\\nexistence of the country, and so extensive are its\\noperations, that the partners have found it neces-\\nsary to establish branches in every village where\\na lawyer can live, and in a vast many where he\\ncannot. I\\nOf course, then, good Mr. Merridevil, said J\\nI, they advertise in all the newspapers.\\nJust so but their advertisement is always the\\nlast that people like to look at. Owing to a de-\\nfeet somewhere in the pocket, or in human na-\\nture, I suppose their gains are not always pro-\\nportionate to the extent of their advertising or the\\namount of their business. Attempts have been\\nmade by swindlers to get the copartnership dis- J\\nsolved, or the firm entirely broken up, but they", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "150 THE PLUME.\\nV\\nhave proved wholly abortive. The partners are\\nj very affable, and salute those with whom they\\nhave to do, with a greeting so courteous and\\nI graceful, that it is next to impossible to resist their\\ni call to walk up to their desk or counter. The\\nfascination of the reptile, coiled beneath the bush-\\nes, cannot be more complete upon the unv/ary bird\\nupon the overhanging tree, than that of the mem-\\nhers of this firm upon those v/ith whom they have\\ndealings. Bankruptcies among other houses only\\nstrengthen the bonds of this, and draw the cords\\nbetv/cen the partners still tighter together. The\\nsenior in the concern is a smart, active, bustling^\\nand exceedingly clamorous little fellow, who does\\nj all tlie talking, and will hardly take no for an an-\\nswer. You might as well tread on the tail of a\\nrattle-snake, as to offend him by an incautious\\nword; for, though pleasant and sociable in con-\\nversation, disposed to accommodate, and do the\\nthing that s right, he is easily offended, and\\nquick as a flash of gunpowder, in his resentments.\\nThe junior partner, the principal book-keeper, by\\nthe way, says but little, is rather pettish, ex-\\nl tortionate, and for bringing matters to a conclu-\\nsion, in short metre. Any thing like delay is his\\nchief abhorrence; and if an imposition is practised\\nagainst this younger brother in the concern, they\\ni both resent it upon the spot, and you might as\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "A RARE VISITOR. 151\\nwell think to set a bumbailiff at defiance as to get\\nout of his clutches.\\nPray, what may be the name of this firm? J\\nA pretty fellow you, to ask that! Why, you\\nare deeply interested in it, yourself. You stare,\\nbut, ha! ha! ha! I know you a7 e. It is the well-\\nknown firm of Call \u00c2\u00a3c Settle. Ha! ha!\\nBut come, I must be off, he continued, I J\\nmust keep my promise good, at all events. I want\\nyou to send me your paper.\\nMy little gentleman jumped up from the stool,\\nwhich had almost split with his frequent peals of J\\nlaughter, and, shouldering his bags, was going off\\nvritlioiit even tellin:^ me his name. Chink! chink!\\ncliiiik! cried all his eagle-eyed offspring, peeping\\nthrough the interstices of his bao;s.\\nTo v/hom shall I direct your paper, and I\\nwhere?\\nWhy, to ME any where every where.\\nThat s very definite. Who ll pay the post-\\nage?\\nI to be sure. You called me in here, and\\n\\\\-\\\\o\\\\y you ask my name. Here, I ll leave my card j\\nwith you. Don t fail to send me your paper. I\\nshall be one of your best subscribers. Good bye,\\nfor the present; when you want your pay, just\\ngive Old Cash a call. Ha! ha! ha! I m off.\\nChink! chink! chink!", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "152 THE PLUME.\\nOld Cash! I exclaimed, at the top of my\\nlungs, starting up and rubbing my eyes.\\nOld Cash! replied echo, in a shrill, quiver-\\ning voice of consternation.\\nOld Cash! thundered out an iron-lunged\\nsubscriber, who, passing my visitor on the stairs,\\ncame in, at that moment, to pay for another year,\\nin advance, (the best possible proof that I had not\\nbeen dreaming, all the while.)\\nChink! chink! chink! was the only reply\\nhe gave, as he hurried along the street, turning\\nhis little bright eyes towards my window.\\nOld C-a-s-h! I vociferated again, on look-\\ning at the card he had left on the table, in the\\nshape of a ten dollar bill.\\nOld Cash! thundered a hundred voices, out\\ndoors, till the v/elkin rung again, as they caught\\nup the magic sound. There was a perfect fever\\nto get a sight at Old Cash, and take him by\\nthe hand, Chink! cliink! chink! was heard\\najrain, fainter and fainter.\\nI reproached myself for having treated my val-\\nl ued visitor so disdainfully, and was about calling\\nI him back, to apologize, though he seemed to take\\nI it in good part; but, looking out of the window, I\\nsaw, through the bright moon-shine, Old Cash,\\nwith his bags, trudging along, up one street and\\ndown another his old familiar places till he\\ncame to a horse, by tiie wayside. He mounted.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "A RARE VISITOR. 153\\nand rode off, full speed for money makes the\\nmare go, you know. Chink! chink! came\\nagain, like the chime of sleigh-bells, as the hoofs\\nof his horse struck a golden light from the stones,\\nin his way.\\nOld Cash! shouted every lawyer, running\\nafter him, and pleading with a most litigious elo-\\nquence. But he paid no regard to the lawyer s\\nwhistle, this time. On he went, just looking\\naround, now and then, as though giving a sort of\\nhalf promise that he would turn back but no!\\nWhen it fairly got wind that a glimpse had\\nbeen had of such an old friend, every body was in\\nthe streets after him. Sheriffs made menacing\\nmotions v*ith their insignia of office. Merchants\\nand butchers held out invitingly to him what they\\nthought would tickle his palate, if he would but\\nturn and look such as flour, beef, he. But\\nno; he was as shy of them all as a Jew is of\\npork. He rode off, stiff and straight, and people,\\nthrusting their hands in their breeches pockets, as\\nif their regrets came from that region, seemed\\ndumfounded, that they had got so near (he Rare\\nVisitor, without shaking him by the hand. But\\nthe Magic Wanderer will return; and, in the\\nmean time, I shall take the greatest pleasure in\\nsending my paper to him and his ten thousand\\nsons and daughters.\\nReturning to my desk, I found one year s sub-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "154 THE PLUME.\\nscription to the paper, in specie. Upon taking it\\nUp, what was my surprise, to see that I had struck\\nit so hard with my fist, as it lay before me, in\\npure consternation that a subscriber should call\\nand pay for his paper, in advance, that it had ac-\\ntually indented my old desk, and left an indelible\\nimpression on its lid.\\nI have only to add, that when I related this ad-\\nventure, the next day, no one would believe a syl-\\nlable of it, except tlie cashier of the bank, and he\\nwas incredulous, until he saw me Vi^alk straight up\\nto his counter and cash the note which had fallen\\ndue that morning. Every one else pronounced it\\nan editor s story \\\\vhich they seemed to regard\\nas synonymous with a fabrication or an idle\\ndream and, to cap the climax, the Printer s\\nDevil thought he must say a word, by way of add-\\ning to my confusion. This little imp affirmed that,\\nhaving a curiosity to know vv hat kept me so long\\nin my room, at such an hour, he had peeped\\nthrough the key-hole, and actually seen me,\\nthrough the twilight, dozing away in my chair! I\\nimmediately gave him a column of the worst man-\\nuscript I could write, to set up, as a slight punish-\\nment for his ill-timed curiosity.\\nhJj-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "ALBUM VERSES. 155\\nALBUM VERSES.\\nNow, by the point of Cupid s dart\\nWhicli one day yet will make you smart.\\nI know not what to say\\nFor, Sukey, love-themes, like a coat,\\nHave been so oft turned in and out,\\nThey re thread-bare and all gray.\\nAlbum poets are so graphic,\\nTheir strains so honied and seraphic.\\nWhen poetizing girls.\\nThey swear their lips are rubies rare,\\nTheir eyes bright diamonds in their glare,\\nTheir teeth all costly pearls.\\nAll mad they run with downy cheek.\\nWith nose and mouth, and hair so sleek\\nTis auburn, when it s red\\nThe waist, as slender as a wasp,\\nThey ll make a finger ring to clasp,\\nA five-feet belt instead.\\nThe foot is small, and neatly turned\\nNo matter whether sprained or burned,\\nBless me how they go\\nAnd chase a dimple or a smile,\\nAnd hunt a beauty half a mile,\\nAt least, from head to toe.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "156 THE PLUME.\\nThe heaving bosom and the sigh,\\nWill never let their eyes be dry,\\nThey make such strange ado!\\nQueer they who face the cannon s thunder,\\nTo love s small pop-gun should knock under-\\nTis odd, I think, don t you\\nIf I remember right, your hair\\nHangs not in curls, or ringlets fair;\\nTis fastened with a comb\\nAnd, tied with papers and with pins,\\nIt goes no penance for its sins.\\nBut curls up fast at home.\\nTis chesnut color, I should say,\\nAnd neither yellow, red, or gray\\nBut very comely hair\\nYou do it up with turtle shell.\\nLike any other modern belle\\nAnd, Suk, you re right, I swear.\\nTis sleek, although you do not use,\\nOr grease or oil, as on your shoes.\\nTo make it gaily shine\\nAs I have known some folks to do.\\nWith whiskers, which they wished to grow-\\nI never so used mine.\\nI know your lips are rosy red.\\nYour cheeks as soft as feather-bed,\\nThat is, as down, I mean", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "ALBUM VERSES.\\nBut who would think to tell a cherry\\nThat it was red, or ripe a berry,\\nThat grass in spring is green\\nYour waist is small as I should choose,\\nYour feet some smaller than your shoes\\nYour ankle I ne er saw it\\nWas badly burned some time ago,\\nAnd sent you limping, to and fro\\nI m sure I m sorry for it.\\nI ll lay a dollar to a pea,\\nTis turned as neatly as could be,\\nAnd yet be made of clay\\nAnd when short gowns come into vogue,\\nI say he s blind, or else a rogue,\\nWho dares to tell me nay.\\nThough not known as literary.\\nLet me say it slyly very\\nYour stockings, Suk, are blue.\\nAnd could holes see, you d darn their eyes,\\nMistress of long-yarn mysteries,\\n(Not spun by Boz or Sue.)\\n157\\nYou play upon the piano.\\nMuch like other maidens, I know\\nAnd then I ve heard you sing.\\nNot like an angel, ere he fell,\\nBut like each modern, mortal belle\\nNo seraph or such thing.\\n14", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "158 THE PLUME.\\nI never heard an angel s lyre,\\nHis heavenly voice and words of fire,\\nNor you, I think, my dear\\nBut when our mortal dance is o er.\\nYou ll be an angel, not before\\nBut not like angels here.\\nSuk, were a friend but sick abed,\\nYou d softly pillow up his head,\\nAnd sweetly soothe his pain\\nOh then, most heavenly, Suk, you d be,\\nA seraph with your cup of tea J\\nOh most an angel then 1 in\\nPerhaps on washing days you are,\\nLike others, who are sweet or fair,\\nA little tart, or so\\nBut then the very sweetest pies,\\nAre not so good, in some folks eyes,\\nAs cranberry tarts, you know.\\nBut, bless me how I race along,\\nAnd sing your praises in this song.\\nOr whate er you name it\\nI ll rein my pigmy courser in.\\nAnd to his neck his bridle pin.\\nElse, dear Suk, you ll blame it.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 159\\nAN ESSAY ON GARRETS.\\nGood apartments, Jack! Bob Acret.\\nI have a peculiar regard for old garrets. One\\nsings the praises of old maids and other family\\npieces of antiquity; another of old wine and old\\nbooks; but, without meaning any disparagement\\nto these, I hold that an old garret is many steps\\nabove them all. I never passed six hours together\\nin one of these upper regions; but if I had as many\\nlives as Plutarch, as the man says (or should have\\nsaid) in the Play, one of them should be devoted\\nto the composition of a quarto on garrets. I trust\\nI have as much politeness as most men of my\\ninches, [five feet ten.] I can make as genteel a\\nbow as your Frenchman, at the door of a splendid\\nmansion and that, too, without fainting at the\\nknocker, through fear of misbehaviour or miscar-\\nriage in the parlor; but it must out your gar-\\nret is the only place on earth, except the church,\\nin which I take off my hat at the very vestibule.\\nI will go one step farther. I have not unfrequent-\\nly prostrated myself, upon entering a garret, with\\nas much reverence as a worshipper of the Grand\\nLama, or a courtier of his infernally black Majes-\\nty of Nigritia to say nothing of the prostrations\\nbefore his Lowness the Great Toe of his Highness", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "100 THE PLUME.\\nthe Pope. It might be sufficient, as a reason for\\nmy respect for old garrets, to say, with Shylock,\\nthat **such is my humor; and that would be as\\ngood a one as nine-tenths of mankind can give for\\ntheir opinions and whims. Such is my humor,\\nthen, till I tind a more satisfactory answer.\\nI have ollen thought that a garret would be a\\ncapital apartment for a phrenologist. It appears\\nto me that, if a man s bumps could be developed\\nin one place more prominently than in another, it\\nwould certainly be in the cranium of the house.\\nIt seems natural, too, that one, who is to examine\\nour own upper stories, should perch himself in the\\nvery brain, so to say, of the mansion. This is on-\\nly a passing remark, however.\\nThanks to our climate, and to the noble science\\nof architecture, every man, unless, like Methuse-\\nlah, he lives in the open air, can have a comforta-\\nble garret. How senseless and stupid did the\\nEgyptians show themselves, in having flat roofs to\\ntheir houses! Is it not strange that the eternal\\ni pyramids, those garrets of kings, did not suggest\\nJ to them the idea of oblique roofs, casting, as they\\nI did, their shadows over their dwellings? No gar-\\nrets! No retreats for the muses from the noise of\\nthe world! No Grub-street! What wonder is it\\nthat poetry a weed on the earth, a flower in the\\nair never flourished in the land of the pyramids.\\nNo high places! No attics for her magicians, her\\ns\\nX", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 101\\nStar-gazers and philosophers! Well might those I\\ndialects of Babel tongues, the rnind-defying hiero- I\\nglyphics, settle on the land. Miserable contor- j\\ntions and twistings of the primitive parts of speech! I\\nShould any descendant of Champolion ever make\\nhis way through the more than Egyptian darkness\\nthat has so long overshadowed the scratches of i\\nTime and the zeros of Eternity, which disfigure the\\nthousand columns, obelisks, and ruins of this flat-\\nroofed region, there cannot be the shadow of a\\ndoubt, that the first legend he deciphers will de- j\\nclare the curious fact, that all the garrets of the l\\nEgyptians were cut off in an instant by the sword\\nof some mighty Avenger, as a punishment for their\\nidolatry and obstinacy.\\nThere is as great a difference in garrets as in\\ndrawing-rooms and cellars. Our hipped-roofs\\nmake very respectable garrets but they are no\\nplaces for your straight-laced gentry, your Pata-\\ngonians et id omne genus. They are all angles, I\\nand one might fancy that the sublime science of ge-\\nometry drew some of her diagrams in the first gar-\\nret. Our pent-roofs are very accommodating to\\nperpendiculars yet even here tall people would\\nbe compelled to knock under. But Hogarth him-\\nself could hardly find a spot where there is so\\ngrand an assemblage of his lines of beauty as in a\\ncurb-roof garret.\\nIt would be amusing to peep into garrets, when\\n14*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^J\\n162 THE PLUME.\\none pleases, if one could unroof them, like Asmo-\\ndeus. What a treat there would be for antiqua-\\nries and collectors! I question if a place could\\nbe found in the world, to match these neglected\\nspots, as receptacles of rare and odd things. Many\\nan old literary treasure has been buried here, and\\nseen no resurrection till Time has lifted the lid\\nfrom its mouldering urn. What a loss to the\\nworld would it have been, if Waverley had contin-\\nued to repose among the rubbish of the old garret\\nat Abbotsford, and been banqueted upon by Time\\nand Decay! I venture to say, that the best mate-\\nrials of history and biography have been found\\nhidden in the corners of garrets. It is easy\\nenough to throw manuscripts into a writing-desk;\\nbut not quite so easy a matter to keep the old\\ndesk, contents and all, from the lumber-garret.\\nSearch the garrets of England, and end the con-\\ntroversy upon the authorship of Junius and the\\nMan in the Iron Mask. You may find a key here\\nthat will unlock mysteries and problems! When\\na great hue and cry was once set up after a par-\\nticular edition of Cotton Mather, the reverend\\ngentleman was found snugly reposing under an\\nold bed, in a country garret. I would rather have\\nthe pickings of some attics, than the most savory\\ndishes in the kitchens below. Give a person the\\ncontents of all the old garrets in Europe, and let\\nhim present them to an English University, and he\\n-4-~", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 163\\nwill be loaded with more titles of honor than the\\ngreatest poet in the world.\\nUnroof me that curb-roof yonder. What a gal-\\nlery of old, odd, antique pictures, smoky, dusty,\\nand tottering in their frames! There are alma-\\nnacs for every year since the war. What bundles\\nof old newspapers, magazines, and reviews, not\\nwearing the dignity of calf with gilt edges, but re-\\nposing in dog-eared glory in covers, purple, yel-\\nlow and green. There stands the old cradle, which\\nhas almost rocked itself to pieces in the service of\\nthe family. It has held its scores, from the great-\\ngrandfather down to that little prattler beneath the\\nwindow. Venerable nurse of generations! It is\\nnow loaded with pictures of aunts, cousins, and\\nuncles innumerable, and sprinkled with many a\\nsweet-smelling herb. There stands the old fash-\\nioned chest of drawers, as hump-backed as Rich-\\nard, and here a table as lame as Byron. You\\nmay see an odd assemblage of bottles, in that cor-\\nner, huddling around an old demijohn or jug, be-\\nwailing its fate with open mouth and broken arm.\\nEvery thing which the contrivance and industry of\\nman has thrown out of employment, is shivering\\nand tottering here, cursing the Spirit of the Age,\\nand thrown into ague-fits at thought of the busy\\nintermeddlinor of Invention. Chief amonor these is\\nthat old prince of grumblers the spinning-wheel\\nformerly buzzing and whizzing out its long\\n-4-\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^J*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "164 THE PLUME.\\nyarns, and still so complaisant as to allow that\\nwhatever is, is right, except Arkwright and\\nCartwright. There lies an old gun, primed with\\ndust, and charged to the muzzle with rust, which\\nI warrant, has done the state good service. It\\nhas no lock, and though it is as rusty as an an-\\nchor, and has not been within smell of gunpowder\\nthese fifty years, yet the timid good-wife below is\\nin a terrible pet lest it should take it into its barrel\\nto go off. But this place is especially deserving\\nof notice, as being the retreat of old fashions.\\nHere is many a loop-hole through which Dame\\nFashion, as old, antiquated, and shorn of her\\ngraces as a\u00c2\u00abpinster, peeps forth upon the world,\\nand laughs at the triumphs she has gained. See\\nthat brood of old-fashioned garments nailed to the\\nsides of the roof! They have had their day again\\nand again; and yet, trust me, the day is coming,\\nwhen they will step forth from their aerial tower\\nat the summons of the Great Magician, Time, to\\ndecorate the limbs of the poor puppets of humani-\\nty, who dance their little hour on the theatre of\\nthe world, as gaily as if the curtain would not fall\\nat last. What a museum of curiosities! There\\nlies an old garment, which was once a fine military\\ncoat, as blushing as Chanticleer, knight of the\\nbloody crest but alas! it has crowed its last\\ncrow! It once had the tail of a comet but how\\nhorribly maimed! Spirit of Seventy-Six! It was\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24-;", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS.\\nshot into a short jackpt at Bunker s Hill, and rich-\\nly deserves a pension for its honorable curtail-\\nment. There is another coat, which its wearer\\nhas just thrown into this out-of-the-way corner of\\nhis mansion, because the cut has been the fashion\\na dozen times before. That pair of tights was for-\\nbidden the light, because it reminded the owner\\nof the tailor s unpaid bill. Those other vestments\\nwhich are dangling from their pegs, like criminals,\\nhave not committed suicide, but are aged and tot-\\ntering exiles from the circles of Fashion,which have\\nworn themselves thread-bare mere shadows of\\ntheir former glory and live in honorable banish-\\nment, away from the hard knocks, the wear and\\ntear of the world. Time will pull out the best\\nstitches of Snip, the tailor. Here are pantaloons,\\nas large and ample as a Turk s, which you might\\ntake for meal-bags, while others are as lean and\\nmeagre as snake-skins. Here are old buckles for\\nthe knees, and for the feet the decorations of\\nyour true gentleman of the last century and\\nnear them are velvet breeches, their venerable\\nand rich accompaniments. Behold those fans\\nhow large and broad! Spangled screens, behind\\nwhich our grandmothers blushed, and smiled\\nand fainted, and smiled again! Star-spangled\\nbanners! The hands that waved them are cold^and\\nmotionless; the fingers that ornamented them have\\nmouldered in the earth; but how many young Cu-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "166 THE PLUME.\\npids, painted devices, flowers and flower-pots,\\nbreathe forth from their ample folds! Could you\\nbut see one of these huge fans spread out its\\nwings, you would suppose it must have been made,\\nlike Mr. Primrose s picture, in the apartment that\\nholds it. You would wonder how it could be got\\nout, but still more how it ever got in. Behold the\\nold genealogical tree, its branches lopped off* and\\nits trunk withered. It hung over the mantel-piece\\nin the parlor, till the glass fell out and the frame\\nwas broken; but now it lies concealed in this re-\\nceptacle of lost things, never to blossom or bear\\nfruit more. St. Crispin! Behold the boots,\\nbootees, and shoes, square-toed and peaked!\\nAlas! they have been on their last legs, and are\\nall now on the same footing. How oft has the\\nfloor sprung and sounded to their light dance, or\\ntheir heavy tramp! Here are rights and lefts\\nenough for a regiment; but you cannot find two\\nthat are mates, among the whole company. Some\\nhave beat time to fife and drum, and some to the\\nsqueaking violin; but their last dance is over, and\\ntheir last squeak gone forth. What an assem-\\nblage of hats! Truly, the articles of the wardrobe\\nof your cockloft are as numerous, if not as costly,\\nas were those of good queen Bess. Here are hats\\nof every size and shape, from the pudding-head\\nand dumpling, down to the last new turn-over.\\nThey are cocked by Time and cocked by Fashion,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 167\\nthree-cornered and no-cornered, with narrow\\nbrims and broad Quaker brims. This one has\\nthe damme look of the bravado and that the\\nsquint of the old gentleman. Here is a bonnet,\\nwhich seems to have been made by some of Nature s\\njourneymen, and there a hood, that, like chaos,\\nis without form and void. They are all cocked\\ninto one indiscriminate heap the cast-offs of\\nmany generations; for here Fashion has drawn to-\\ngether all the trumpery which she has sent out into\\nthe world. How she laughs and smiles as she\\ncounts up her triumphs, and scores down in the\\ngarret the number of fools she has made! Every\\nthing you see here is like an old coin, which has run\\nits round till, its gloss gone, its image and super-\\nscription worn off, it is finally lost in some remote\\ncorner of a pocket; for, pray, what is your cock-\\nloft, but an old, forgotten pocket?\\nI need hardly say a word of the antiquity of gar-\\nrets. It is unquestionable, let some carping gen-\\ntry of the parlor say what they will. It dates\\nback to the Antediluvians. It was about this\\ntime, though commentators mention not the pre-\\ncise period, that men learned\\nTo hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,\\nAnd spread the roof above them.\\nIt seems natural, also, that, in the early ao-es,\\npeople should turn their attention to garrets rather", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "168 THE PLUME.\\nthan to elegant parlors. The former bear the\\nsame relation to the latter, which a state of nature\\nbears to civilization. At the same time, I allow\\nthat first-chop garrets can only be made in periods\\nof great refinement; but the deuce is, that your\\nelegant drawing-room steps in then, and jostles\\nthe last and most exalted piece of architecture, the\\ngarret, out of its dignity; so that the latter shines\\nwith that sort of splendor which the stars possess,\\nwhen the sun is at its height. I have little doubt\\nthat Noah s ark had a glorious garret. The scrip-\\ntures make no mention of this, it is true; but we\\nare told it was three stories high, and no reasona-\\nble person can doubt that it was topped by a fine,\\ncapacious garret. There must have been an\\napartment of this kind, in which to stow away old\\nchattels, and, perhaps, some of Noah s superflu-\\nous, floating population. Should his log-book\\never be found, some positive information may be\\nobtained upon this difl[icult subject.\\nIt is a singular fact, and one which speaks vol-\\numes in praise of garrets, that the Roman supper\\nor dining-room corresponded with these despised\\nmodern apartments. Ay, ye modern epicures! the\\ndandies and gentlemen loafers, whom Horace and\\nJuvenal have lashed so unmercifully, partook of\\ntheir deep potations and their delicious banquets\\nin garrets. It was here, that the Falernian, Mas-\\nsic, and Cecubaean wine sparkled in the goblet.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "4-\\nAN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 169\\nHere the roasted shrimps and the African cockles\\nwere devoured, after the rich and exhilaratino-\\nwine-cups had touched the lip. Here the lost ap-\\npetite was restored by sausages and bacon. Here\\nthe Venafrian oil trickled over the delicate sauces\\nhere smoked the barbel and turbot, the Um-\\nbrian bore and the Circean oysters, the delicate\\nkid and the no less delicate hare. These garrets\\nwere splendidly furnished, and the architecture\\nwas befitting their beautiful and elevated situation.\\nBut that prince of Epicures, Horace, like most\\npoets, had a miserable garret. He sings the\\ncharms of the table in eye and mouth-waterin^\\nstrains, but no palace of an attic enclosed him as\\nhe suns\\no\\nNon ebur, neque aureum\\nMea renidet in domo. lacunar.\\nOr as we rendered it at Cambridge\\nNo ivory or gold\\nWithin iny garret shines.\\nThe poet could not have prayed for a more glo-\\nrious, song-inspiring spot than a Roman garret, in\\nwhich to retreat with his mistress, and escape the\\njaws of the wolf he celebrates. I can face the\\nCholera, the cold of Greenland, and the heat of\\nthe torrid zone, cries the amorous lyrist, but re-\\n15\\nI", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a04-\\n170 THE PLUME.\\nmove far from my sight the luxurious temptations\\nof the garret\\nIn terri, domibus negatd,\\nDulce videntem, Lalagen amabo,\\nDulce loqueritem.\\nHad a Roman garret been the despicable room\\nwhich the moderns affirm it to be, Horace would\\nhave sung a different song. It would have been the\\nfirst place he would have sought with Miss Lalage.\\nThe Romans showed their judgment, in my\\nopinion, by taking their meals in the airy cockloft.\\nThey showed their wisdom, also, by excluding\\nfrom its precincts, mice, poets, and all their mus-\\ncipular abortions. They could here eat and drink\\nin peace and quiet, without fear of being disturbed\\nby the bawl of the oyster-man non clam exclam-\\navit and the whole tribe of market-men. How\\nrefreshing, too, the breezes that were wafted to\\nthese aerial domains. But, alas! in time the\\nprincely epicures deserted their tables, as the\\nMuses deserted the temples and hallowed streams.\\nHungry poets thronged in, and made the chosen\\nsupper-room their domicil. When the gorgeous\\ntemples, porticos, and mansions of Rome were\\nbowed to the earth, the glory of garrets departed\\nforever. Bacchus retreated, and the serving-\\nmaids of Apollo and the Muses rushed in to clear\\nthe tables, and take up their abodes amid the glit-\\ntering ruins. Even in Juvenal s time, garrets\\n4--", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 171\\nwere the hiding-places of poetasters. In his sev-\\nenth satire, he thus addresses a poet\\nQ,ai facis in parva sublimia carmina cella.\\nWrit st lofty verses in a garret small.\\nHe seems to think that bailiffs had not yet found\\nout these retreats of starving rhymesters\\nRarus venit in coenacula miles.\\nHandsome the sheriff, still he can t come in.\\nThe satirist mourns over the ruins of garrets,\\nand thinks their glory will return in happier days.\\nThis, however, may be, in part, the idea of his\\ntranslator, Dryden, who thus renders the line to\\nwhich I refer:\\nCocklofts and garrets yet will have their turn.\\nBut alas! what thoughts would crowd the brain\\nof Juvenal, could he rise from the grave and open\\nhis eyes first in a modern garret. Would he not\\nsuppose that he was in the lower, instead of the up-\\nper regions? Alas and alack! for the attic in our\\nday I fancy Wordsworth s upper story was full\\nof this subject, when he wrote these lines,\\nA merry place, tis said, in days of yore,\\nBut something ails it now, the place is cursed.\\nIt is a matter of wonder to me that no modern\\nauthor has treated of this subject. It is a theme\\nworthy of the highest intellect of Grub-Street.\\nWe have lines and sonnets by the scores to\\nmistresses and their eye-brows, but I have look-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "172 THE PLUME.\\ned in vain for a few choice lines to a garret.\\nWhen the subject has had paid to it the cold trib-\\nute of a passing notice, it has been done in a most\\ncontemptuous and ungentlemanly manner. If the\\nvalue of literary labor were estimated, as some\\nwits have supposed it to be, by the number of quills\\nthat have been worn to stumps in the service of\\nthe Muses, the fools-caps in which they have been\\ndressed out, or the gallons of ink with which they\\nhave been baptized, I should claim for the garret\\nthe honor of being the most literary room in the\\nhouse. As it is, it claims no mean praise; and,\\nsay what you will, ye lovers of parlors and kitch-\\nens, the garret has a high and elevated rank. All\\nthe wit which has been reared and bred in it, is of\\na purely attic character. And yet what a race of\\nmiserable, poor devil authors has infested these\\nhigh, classic places, time out of mind They\\nwere, if one may so sing\\nBoeotian heads in Attic cradles rocked.\\nYour Drydens, Steeles and Savages, have\\npassed half of their lives in garrets not that\\nthey were hackneyed, Grub-street inditers of ver-\\nses; but they were forced to bury themselves here\\nto escape the clutches of catch-poles, duns, and\\nbumbailiffs,\\nTo hide them from the garish eye of day.\\nHalf the world has made a visit to the room in", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 173\\nwhich Shakspeare sat and to the apartments in\\nwhich Goldsmith and Johnson took their wine and\\ntea, but your great men might be born every hour\\nof the day in garrets, and yet these tenements\\nwould not draw a dozen visitors. Who will ever\\nvisit the garret of Abbotsford, which was honored\\nwith the presence of the manuscript Waverley for\\nyears, because a wrong-headed critic attempted to\\nstrangle the young Immortal in its cradle? And\\nyet Sir Walter Scott the man who has given the\\nworld a new, stereotyped edition of human nature.\\nHomer having given the first, and Shakspeare the\\nsecond tells us he spent a whole day, in this iden-\\ntical garret, in search of Waverley. Think of\\nthat, ye contemners of cocklofts and garrets!\\nDean Swift speaks of garrets most contemptu-\\nously; and yet, had it not been for garreteers, he\\nand Pope would have starved. They fed upon\\nthem and, of course, grew fat, as the tenants of\\ncocklofts grew lean. They cracked their brains,\\nand cracked their wit at their expense. I would\\nas soon think of extracting sunbeams from cucum-\\nbers, like one of his own heros, as dream of\\nfinding a word in praise of attics in all the Dean s\\nvolumes. He advises all garreteers to carry their\\npoems to Pope, if they wish for immortality\\nwhich is something like cutting the dog s tail off\\nclose to his ears. Hear the parson s fiddle.\\n15*\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a04-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "174 THE PLUME.\\nYe poets, ragged and forlorn,\\nDown from your garrets haste,\\nYe rhymers dead as soon as born\\nHe prophesied that all the garrets in Grub-Street\\nwould be annihilated in ten days, and yet they are\\nlikely to outlive his own, as well as Grub-Street\\nverses. He had an eye to his own country, how-\\never, and declares, on the word of a parson, that\\nnothing is more wanted in Ireland, than a good\\nrow of garrets.\\nWhat though our garrets are like chaos and\\nold night! They are the last hiding-places of\\nsuperstition. I reverence them, on this account.\\nYou will find a ghost here, if not in broad day-\\nlight; and, to tell the truth, I believe this same\\nhag, Superstition, is the very creature who has\\nbrought attics into disgrace and disrepute. Some\\npeople, and those honest ones, had as lief enter a\\ntomb as a garret. They have a mortal dread lest\\ntheir grandfathers and grandmothers should ap-\\npear to them, clothed in their old breeches,\\ngowns, c., which have taken up their lodgings in\\nthese dark and gloomy holes; for your true ghost,\\nlet me tell you, is no respecter of fashions. He is\\nrobed in white, only in the grave-yard. In the\\ngarret, a grey or black suit, of any cut he is not\\nat all fastidious is as good as the best broad-\\ncloth, fresh from the tailor s shop. But, ghost or\\nno ghost, I challenge any man to select an apart-\\n4", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "AN ESSAY ON GARRETS. 175\\nment in the house, where sleep is so sweet as in a\\ncockloft on a rainy night. Repose, here, is a lux-\\nury which a king in his palace knows not. The\\nrain patting on the roof is sweeter than the chime\\nof musical glasses. But yet few will enter a\\ngarret, day or night; and if they do, they retreat,\\nwith an oath, like the man who, puffing with the\\nasthma, exclaimed Gad! if I once get this\\ncursed breath out of my body, I ll take care it\\ndon t get in again. If they once get out of the\\ngarret, they will take care they do not enter it\\nagain in a hurry. People, who speak thus disre-\\nspectfully grovellers, who tread the earth and\\nwill not look up to those above them these folks,\\nI say, generally have their heads stuffed with old\\nlumber whims and caprices and a whole tribe\\nof useless articles, which blind their better judg-\\nment. For this very reason, they ought to ex-\\nhibit some lurking sympathy with the contents of\\ntheir garrets.\\nParlors and drawing-rooms, with all their pomp\\nand circumstance of sofas, pianos, couches, and\\nother articles of elegant furniture, are at present\\nthe tip-top of fashion. The kitchen and pantry\\nare odorous of all the balms and perfumes of Ara-\\nby the Blest. The cellar, too, is the pride of the\\ngay gentleman, the spendthrift; and the neat\\nhousewife. But these things will not endure for-\\never. Our immortal skinflint, the economical Dr.\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "176 THE PLUME.\\nFranklin, declares that a fat kitchen makes a lean\\nwill; but it is equally true, and I wonder the Doc-\\ntor did not think of it, that a fat kitchen makes a\\nfat garret. The splendor and extravagance of\\nmodern days will, ere long, make our garrets fit\\npalaces for exiled kings. These contemned, high,\\nthough humble apartments, unpatronised, and\\ntherefore little known, will yet blaze forth in all\\ntheir glory not with the fire of their own com-\\nbustibles, but with the light and brilliancy of\\ntheir own supremacy. Good Heaven forbid they\\nshould ever become the retreats of ragged and\\nhalf-starved poets for of all lofty poetry your\\ncockloft verse is the worst. Yet, believe me, yotir\\nExcellency, the Cellar, and your Honor, the Par-\\nlor, will one day bow before His Highness, the\\nGarret.\\nTOM SKINFLINT.\\nTom Skinflint was a vender of small wares,\\nA six-feet travelling- grocery\\nA chat-box, saying all things but his prayers,\\nWho d fit you to an artificial nose, or a\\nPair of ears or eyes, as well as Dr. Scudder\\n(A rhyme is but a verse s rudder\\nTo steer one clear of such a name as this\\nMerely by help of a parenthesis", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "4-\\nTOM SKINFLINT. 177\\nA fellow that will spin you gratis\\nHorribly long yarns\\nJust as they measure ribbons, strolling the road by day,\\nWith huge great packs\\nSwung on their backs,\\nWho roll and pack themselves by night away,\\nIn cocklofts of old barns\\nOf curiosities a museum\\nPerambulatory,\\nCarrying in his upper story,\\nVidelicit, the box, or garret on his head,\\nHis stock in trade.\\nNo danger he d refuse you em\\nFor, though a bank-note Tom would shun\\nLike the tooth-ache or a dun.\\nYet he always got hard rhino\\nBut how, is more than I know\\nThough Tom was sharp as any chap with packs on.\\nAnd loved to turn a penny\\nAs well as any\\nAs well as you or I,\\nThompson or Jackson.\\nFor good hard cash he d give you vials, violins.\\nSpectacles for old eyes or for young\\nOld Almanacs and new, and pins.\\nAnd blisters for the tongue.\\nHoarse, cracked and squeaking fiddles,\\nBoxes in boxes to puzzle you.\\nAnd puzzling riddles,\\nPlasters and oils for broken heads and shins.\\nSongs for broken hearts\\nNew made epitaphs and charts,", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "-4 l\\n178 THE PLUME.\\nCatholicons self-pufFed, and panaceas\\nDull razors, duller shears;\\nWith dolls for grown-up babies, undrest or drest,\\nOr headless, just as d suit em best,\\nHow Tom would guzzle you\\nHe d mend old noseless tea-pots, broad-bottomed chairs,\\nSmall-headed tongs, that got broke unawares,\\nLean candle-sticks and snuffers\\nAnd leaner folks, dyspeptic and hard puffers,\\nWho could nt cast a shadow in the sun,\\nBefore their dinner,\\nH d make cast two or three when they had done,\\nOr swear he was a sinner,\\nOr that his name wa nt Skinflint Skinner.\\nHe d make them shadows by long fasting em,\\nAnd so would save the pains of casting em.\\nHe d patch and work upon a sickly frame,\\nAnd put a stitch or so into an arm or leg,\\nAnd hang upon t his own immortal fame\\nAs on a peg.\\nHe was a Jack-knife, walking on two legs,\\nSpringing and cutting at your purse\\nAn animal that s often seen in rags,\\nHowever dressed in verse.\\nA stickler at his prices he\\nHe would not bate an inch.\\nWhether you d have a pound of old rappee,\\nOr but a pinch\\nAnd Skinflint was he rightly called, I ween,\\nFor he would shave a four-pence-half-penny.\\nClose as a broker shaves a note, or any\\nRazor your chin.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "TOM SKINFLINT. 179\\nCould he make a cent, gods I how he d chuckle,\\nThat he had given some raw chap\\nSuch a devil of a rap\\nOver the knuckle.\\nOld Skinflint Skinner, as I ll tell before I m done,\\nWas sometimes skinned himself, and lost his number\\none.\\nTom wanted a small hatchet once.\\nFor some odd purpose or another.\\nProbably to cheat some raw, half-witted brother.\\nBut no matter\\nOld Skinflint hunts\\nThrough Jacob Smith s old grocery shop\\nFrom cellar up to top.\\nAnd finds the very thing. It makes his grinders chat-\\nter,\\nIt is so sharp and keen,\\n(Not so sharp as Tom, I ween\\nHow much for this cries Tom.\\nJust three and ninepence, sir.\\nThat s plaguy dear.\\nTake it or not, as you prefer.\\n**I must make profit, if I sell it off again;\\nI ll tell you what I ll do\\nWell, Tom that s you.\\nI ll give you let me see yes, one and sixty cents,\\nThough gainst my grain.\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "180 THE PLUME.\\nWell, take it hence\\nI never stand or bother for a cent or so.\\nTom shakes his head, and says, But I do, though.\\nHe throws a ninepence and half dollar down,\\nAnd Jacob gives him one cent back as change.\\nWhat here s not enough, cries Tom, with rising\\nfrown,\\nI want a half cent more, exact tis strange!\\nPray, get it, if you can.\\nOdd rot it!\\nI ll not leave you till I ve got it\\nI ll take it from your skin, as I m a Skinner,\\nOr you a sinner.\\nYou swear you ll never darken my door sill,\\nIfl the half cent pay?\\nWhy, to be sure I will.\\nOld Smith takes Tom s new hatchet in his hand.\\nAs idle fellows round him wink and stand.\\nWondering how he ll do t,\\nAnd strike the matter to the root.\\nHe lays a cent upon\\nThe old door-stone,\\nAnd with good aim and true\\nHe cuts it with a thundering blow right through,\\nOr, as we say, in two.\\nZounds, hold! shrieks Tom, with sudden jumj^\\nHitting old Smith a devil of a thump\\nYou ll spoil my hatchet, gump!", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 181\\nCurse such a half-cent mould,\\nSee my new hatchet\\nOdds scratch it\\nI can t match it,\\nI ll ring your nose for two-pence, you old\\nAsy, good sir quoth Smith, giving a toss\\nTo hatchet and broken cent not worth a louse\\nThere s your change, old Half-Cent, there s your due\\nIf you can t wait,\\nOld Money-pate,\\n(Here, take it!)\\nTill Uncle Sam can coin a half-cent, you\\nShall Jind the instrument to make it\\nTHE LOVED AND LOST\u00e2\u0080\u0094 THE BRIDAL RING.\\nHow beautifully true is the scriptural compari-\\nson of life to a flower, which springeth up in the\\nmorning and blooms, but in the evening is cut\\ndown and withers away Its exceeding beauty\\nand comeliness, its delicate tints, rose-colored\\nand golden, its virgin buds and blossoms, and the\\nincense which it lavishes from its fragrant urn\\nupon the summer air, as it leans forward for its\\ngentle kiss what are they all, and what do they\\navail? Alas! they are as nothing. Radiant\\nthough it be with nature s sunniest smile, and\\n16", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "182 THE PLUME.\\narrayed in her loveliest attire, the little flower,\\nwhich lifteth up its head so proudly at morn,\\nbows to the blast, is stricken down and withers\\naway, wet with the dews of night. And so it is\\nwith LIFE. We hardly enter the world, flushed\\nwith bright hopes and anticipations, ere we are\\nsummoned by the angel of Death to leave it. We\\nhardly taste its enjoyments and its pleasures\\nere the cup is dashed from our lips forever. The\\neloquent lip becomes pale and mute at the moment\\nwe are drinking in its honied accents. The bright\\neye grows dim, and the strong arm motionless,\\nwhile we are witnessing their power and con-\\nquests. The brilliant intellect flashes upon us,\\ndazzling and delighting the world, and in an\\ninstant is gone The loved one clings to us in\\nthe bloom of life, folds her hands about our neck,\\nand the next moment lies lifeless in our arms.\\nHonor and station, however high, have no power\\nto arrest the hand of the Destroyer. The silver\\nlocks of age bow before him Youth and Inno-\\ncence smile and plead to him, but he delights to\\nfeast upon their very smiles and dimples and\\nBeauty\\nAs with embroidered scarf and golden zone,\\nShe sweepeth by towards her jewelled throne\\nBeauty the impersonation of all that is lovely\\nand excellent in woman is touched by the icy", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 183\\nfinger of death, falls to the earth and becomes the\\nfood of worms\\nSuch is the common lot of humanity such,\\nthe end of all earthly hopes and aspirations A\\nreflection so solemn pressed upon us, as it is,\\nday after day and hour after hour should teach\\nus not to cling to life too tenaciously, or place our\\naffections on earthly things. All all must\\nPASS AWAY and why, with this solemn admo-\\nnition so constantly mingling itself with our\\nthoughts, should we wish to live alvvay If one\\nmight clothe in humble verse the favorite senti-\\nment of her, who while livin^ clunsj to him with a\\ndevotion which woman only knows, and whose\\nmemory will be ever green in his heart of hearts,\\nhe would say\\nI WOULD NOT LIVE AIi\\\\irAY.\\nOh no, I would not live alway,\\nIn this dull world, though fair it seem;\\nOn all is stamped thy name, Decay,\\nDeceptive as a summer dream.\\nBehold that sweet moss rose which blooms,\\nSo like a flower of Paradise;\\nA worm feeds on its rich perfumes,\\nAs hid within its bud it lies.\\nNo No I would not live alway\\nNot mid the green and sunny dells,\\nWhere falls no music but the play\\nOf streams, or chime of Sabbath bells", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "184 THE PLUME.\\nWhere earth a primrose mantle wears.\\nLike Eden in her virgin prime;\\nAnd Peace her flower-wreathed sceptre rears.\\nGuardian of the blissful clime.\\nCare gnaws around the fibres of the heart.\\nAnd Hope doth droop her golden wing,\\nStruck like a bird, by unseen dart,\\nHeavenward no more to soar and sing;\\nFriends, whom we love and cherish, die.\\nAnd sink into the tomb of night.\\nSnatched from our bosom, while the eye\\nWith joy at meeting them is bright.\\nI would not live on earth alway\\nOh, not of heaven I crave this boon\\nWhen death shall summon me away.\\nIn life s bright morning or sweet noon.\\nAnd earth fades to my closing eye\\nFather be thou my staff and stay.\\nAnd bear me to thy realms on high\\nThere oh, there, I would live alway.\\nThere I would live alway What but the\\nassurance of a happier existence hereafter would\\nenable us all to bear up under affliction. The\\nflower, which is so emblematic of human life, is\\ncut down and withers, but with the first breeze of\\nthe new spring, it rises and blooms again in all its\\nwonted beauty and glory. So with the flowers\\nwhich spring up along the domestic path, and are\\nsheltered at our firesides. They are taken away,\\n4-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 185\\nbut will they not rise and live again in an eternal\\nspring in the garden of Paradise? It is hard to\\npart with those we love and it seems like tear-\\ning away the heart-strings to surrender them up\\nto the cold chamber of the tomb. Notwithstanding\\nall the consolation which religion or philosophy\\nbrings to the wounded spirit, still the loss of those\\nto whom we are endeared, unmans one, if he has\\na throb of kindly feelings in his bosom. Cold and\\nheartless, indeed, must be that philosophy born\\nof Christianity it cannot be which weeps not\\nover the remains of the loved and lost. The tear\\ngushes to the sealed eye from the desert heart\\nwithin, when smitten by the hand of Omnipotence,\\nas the waters gushed from the rock in the wilder-\\nness, when the prophet smote it with his wand.\\nTo see the lip pale in death yet wreathed with a\\nliving smile to feel the brow cold and icy, and\\nthe eye like that of Medora\\nOh o er the eye Death most exerts his might,\\nAnd hurls the spirit from her throne of light\\nSinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse,\\nBut spares us yet the smile around her lips.\\nAll this moves us unless we have a heart of\\nadamant. And, then, the light, bounding step so\\nfamiliar and pleasant to hear the voice of wel-\\ncome at morning, noon, and night the eye that\\nweeps over our misfortunes and fills with tears of\\njoy at our success the smile at all times, and al-\\n16*\\n4*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "186\\nTHE PLUME.\\nways happy and bright and cheerful the earnest\\nprayer for the little ones the care and watchful-\\nness over them the devotion and unceasing at-\\ntention, the clinging love and more than earthly\\naffection by the side of the sick couch at midnight\\nhow can we forget them, or, remembering, for-\\nbear to weep and mourn the loss of those who pos-\\nsess them.\\nWe miss, we miss thee from those pleasant places,\\nWhere thy soft smiles and glances used to shine\\nUpon bright forms and fair familiar faces.\\nAnd gladden hearts that knew no love but thine.\\nWe miss thee from the family board and hearth,\\nAnd from our scenes of mirth.\\nWe miss, at silent eve, the half-heaid whisper.\\nIn which thou erst didst breathe thy nightly prayer.\\nAs in thine arms thou d st fold each tiny lisper,\\nThe objects of thy earliest love and care,\\nAnd pray that we might be one family band.\\nIn that bright, better land.\\nThou art where low-toned lutes breathe silvery gushes\\nOf sweetness to the listening ones on high.\\nLike the wind s music as it sweetly rushes\\nO er waters leaping to the moonlit sky.\\nIn the deep quiet of a summer even\\nSweet One thou art in heaven\\nAnd children too how the little ones twine\\ntheir young affections around the parent s heart,\\nlike the honeysuckle whose tendrils clasp the old\\noak, the moment it springs from the earth, and", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 187\\nbefore it unfolds its blossoms to the summer air.\\nDearer than life itself to those who have nurtured\\nand watched over their infant growth, little does\\nhe know of the human heart and the affections\\nimplanted within it, who smiles at the tears shed\\nover their premature loss, when if one may so\\nexpress himself\\nDeath s icy hand\\nUnclasps the tendrils from the parent vine,\\nAnd strikes them from the earth, as their sweet buds\\nAre half unfolded to the summer sun.\\nThose whom the Gods love, die young, is\\na sentiment, which, though the teaching of hea-\\nthen philosophy, commends itself to the heart and\\nthe belief of the Christian world. The innocence\\nand spotless purity of childhood, which the senti-\\nment implies, breathe forth, also, from the inspired\\nteachings of the Savior in the Word of God. Every\\nfeeling of man approves it. It is the natural lan-\\nguage of the human heart, the world over. We\\nspeak of children as cherubs, not in the language\\nof endearment only, but in that of sober truth.\\nWe regard them as creatures who approach nearer,\\nin their innocence and purity, to the spirits of the\\nbetter land than those who have buffeted the\\nstorms of the world. Their hearts are unsullied\\nby its rude blasts, its temptations, its cares, and\\nits thousand corroding influences. As we witness", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a24^\\n188 THE PLUME.\\nwith delight their infant faculties daily expanding\\nbefore us, like the bud into the blossom, our\\nhearts become almost wrapped up in them, if I\\nmay say so, before we are conscious of the\\nstrength of our love, and the earnestness of our\\nunwearied affection. The playfulness of infancy,\\nits artless simplicity, its endearments, its love,\\nwhich prompts it to cling to the arm that supports\\nit, as the vine clings to the tree its joys and its\\nsorrows, its merriment and buoyancy, its inquisitive-\\nness, its proneness to imitation, and its eager cu-\\nriosity are so many charms, as it were, to\\nendear the little prattlers to the heart, and we\\ncheerfully submit to any sacrifice on their account\\nas a pleasure and a delight. And to have them\\ntorn away suddenly, or after a distressing sick-\\nness they alone may know the pain, who have\\nfelt the barb of the arrow. The mother, whose\\nmidnight vigils have been incessant over the pil-\\nlow of her dying child, and who has folded it to\\nher bosom, in its hours of pain, with all the anx-\\niety of a mother s love the father who has\\nwatched over it, and prayed for its restoration to\\nhealth the relatives who have witnessed its\\nfading bloom day by day they only can know\\nthe sorrow which fills the heart at such bereave-\\nments.\\nPerhaps the following lines, descriptive of the\\nfeelings of a mother on the return of the birth day\\n*i^", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 189\\nof her infant son, may not be unacceptable to\\nmy readers\\nTHE 3IOTHER TO HER FIRST BORN.\\nTi3 come\\nMy lovely boy, thy first bright natal day,\\nAnd morn, all radiant, soars on purple wings,\\nTo usher in the rosy hours. Ah, yes\\nThe earth is wrapt in beauty; each tender blade,\\nEach softly quivering leaf, a pearly gem\\nOf living brightness hath put on, and nature wears\\nHer gala-robe, begemmed with tinted flowers.\\nFrom whose bright, golden urns the zephyr laves\\nHis wings with balm, and mild as spirit s breath,\\nHe comes, to play around thy snowy brow,\\nAnd wanton with thy fair and sunny locks.\\nEach little bird, whose radiant wing aloft\\nOn gentle breeze is borne, or flutters soft\\nAmid each leafy bower of tree, or shrub,\\nWarbles its wild-wood note, so sweet, so clear,\\nSo full of harmony, as if it learned\\nIts song from angel lyres.\\nO cherub boy\\nAll things without are fair, and bright, on this\\nThy primal birth day. Yet, nor golden beam,\\nKindling the dew, the violet s meek eye,\\nThe rose s blushing cheek, the morning s breath.\\nNor pure cerulean sky, nor nature s matin song\\nWith such glad joy my breast inspire, as when\\nOn thy sweet face I look, all wreathed in smiles\\nSo heavenly, and watch the rays of mind.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "190 THE PLUME.\\nBright playing o er each soft-pencilled feature.\\nOn that pure brow, beneath that drooping lid,\\nSits infant thought with meekly folded wings.\\nImparting to my heart a rapturous joy,\\nAnd turning it around, with rainbow hopes\\nOf future promise.\\nYet through the vista long of coming years,\\nI fear to gaze in fancy. Well I know\\nThat life is heir to sorrow well I know\\nThy fairy bark not always may glide on.\\nWith gentle gales and sunny skies, as now.\\nThe world s harsh breath thy spirit oft will blight\\nWith sadness and with sorrow. Yes, my boy\\nThine eye, now radiant as the morn, the tear\\nOft will dim, and many a golden hope.\\nAnd aspiration high, sweet spring-like plants\\nOf heavenly growth, within thy breast be crushed.\\nAnd withered iii their vernal bloom.\\nAh these may be\\nYet with that Holy One, who children blessed,\\nI leave thee, cherished boy May He, who loved\\nTo bind the broken heart and heal the wounds\\nOf sorrow, to my soul a gift of strength\\nImpart, to guide aright thy infant steps\\nIn pure religion s path. May He whose life\\nWas undefiled, my lovely flower, preserve\\nThee, pure and fair as now, till, ripe for heaven.\\nHe shall transplant thee to celestial soil,\\nTo flourish there, fast by the stream of life.\\nThe wife and child of our love, the brother of\\nour boyhood, the sister, so buoyant a playmate of", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 191\\nour tender years, and the warm-hearted friend of\\nour manhood are, one by one, stricken down at\\nour side, and we follow them to their last home.\\nIt is then, in this hour of the heart s desolation,\\nthat we feel how strong, how enduring was the\\ntie which bound us to the Loved and Lost.\\nThen it is that dwelling upon their virtues, em-\\nbalmed in the most precious recesses of our hearts,\\nwe cherish their memories and the sunny spots\\nwhich their presence so endeared to us, with a\\ntenderness which can be measured only by\\nthe strength and ardor of the love we bore them.\\nWho, at such a time, shall say to which of them\\nall, if to either, while smiling around us, our\\naffection clung most devotedly Who, in that\\nhour of bereavement, shall divide and weigh out\\nby grains the affection, which has become the\\nmaster passion of the soul\\nIn one of the sweetest creations of his fancy,\\nthe bard of Lallah Rook sings of the wanderings\\nof the Peri, and their precious offerings at the por-\\ntals of Eden, as the price of re-admission to their\\ncelestial home. Such is the matchless beauty and\\nglowing reality with which the poet invests his\\nsong, that, as the gate opens to receive the boon,\\nwe seem to hear the glad hymns of the blessed\\nindwellers, standing ready to welcome their lost\\nsister back to her blissful abode. It was not the", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "4-\\n192 THE PLUME.\\nyoung lover s sweetest sigh nor the frolicsome\\nlaugh of happy childhood, sporting in its bright\\ninnocence and buoyancy, nor the enchanting smile\\nof beauty in all its mellow, virgin bloom no, nor\\nthe glorious heroism of the dying warrior, as he\\nlay on the field which his own true arm had de-\\nfended, and his own warm blood had crimsoned\\nnor yet the gushing tear of the young soldier, at\\nseeing pass forever from his dying vision the glo-\\nrious banner of his country, which had so often\\nwaved over him, and cheered his comrades to vic-\\ntory. No it was not the offering of these boons,\\npriceless as they are, at the gate of Paradise,\\nthat could secure the celestial wanderer entrance\\nthrough its golden portals. Can it be that earth,\\nin its wide circuit, or the human heart, in its lofti-\\nest range, has a treasure more dear than one or\\nall of them? It was not until the Peri bore aloft\\non her dazzling pinions the bitter, burning tear of\\na penitent child of earth, weeping over his guilt\\nand his deeds of blood, that the glad creature of\\nheaven was greeted with a welcome to her Eden\\nhome. How beautiful this orientalism It is not\\nmerely a splendid conception of the poet, gilded\\nwith the gorgeous drapery of eastern song, but what\\nis far better, it is in harmony with the sublime\\nteachings of inspiration. And yet there are feel-\\nings within that impel one to ask if the tears of\\nthe penitent, remorse-stricken sinner, gushing up", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 193\\nwarm from the heart, be the only or the most pre-\\ncious boon that can be borne to the gates of Par-\\nadise? Does the wide earth, with its heart -jewels,\\nits splendid deeds, and its heaven-descended attri-\\nbutes, contain nothing, from the magnificent pal-\\nace and the happy mansion, to the rayless hut of\\nthe poor man who toils for his daily bread and\\nfinds it not, that may be deemed as acceptable an\\noffering to the spirits above I may err, and yet\\nI cannot but regard the tie, which binds the\\nhusband to the wife of his bosom, as the golden\\nthread of life, and the affection which springs\\nfrom that relation as the holiest and purest of all\\nthe passions. Indeed, it embraces within itself,\\nand centres upon the very heart s shrine, the\\npurer and better attributes of them all. The undy-\\ning strength, the tenderness and gushing ardor of\\nother affections is admitted. Their developments\\nare delightful, and what a sweet, mellow radiance\\ndo they spread over the pathway of life, as it were\\na golden ray from the throne of heaven itself The\\nlove which exists between young hearts, in the hey-\\nday of life, has been sung and felt and pronounced\\nextatic the love of sister for sister or brother for\\nbrother, of a brother for his sister, his early play-\\nmate and the sharer of his sports and his sorrows,\\nand the return of that love from the sister s heait\\nthe love of a mother for her child aye and\\nabove all, the love of a father for his daughter\\n17", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "194 THE PLUME.\\nhow sweet, how endearing are they all But that\\naffection which exists between a young wife and\\nthe object of her earliest love, the creature of her\\nthoughts and feelings, as well as the centre of her\\nvirgin heart, is chaster, purer, holier than all.\\nIndeed, it is all in one; and when the. tie which\\nbinds them is broken, when the young mother is\\nstricken down to the cold earth, and Death feasts\\nupon her lips, her dimples and her smiles when\\nthe young father is snatched away from the side of\\nher, the mother of his children and the being of his\\ntenderest love what a void is left What agony,\\nwhat grief presses upon the spirit of the surviving\\none I We feel as though a golden harp, to whose\\nseraphic tones we are listening, had suddenly\\nstopped, while we strain the ear to catch its magic\\nsounds. The survivor for the moment seems to\\ndie, and the living heart to lie in the cold tomb\\nwith the dead and gone. The presiding spirit has\\nvanished from the family circle, and the bereft\\nas the household gods lay scattered around, no\\nlonger to be gathered up by that presiding one,\\nremoved from earth to heaven exclaims in the\\ntouching language of Ruth, the beautiful gleaner\\nof Bethlehem Whither thou goest I will go,\\nand where thou lodgest I will lodge. Thy people\\nshall be my people, and thy God my God. Where\\nthou diest will I die, and there will 1 be buried.\\nAy it must be so. If either of the affections\\n4--", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f\\nTHE LOVED AND LOST. 195\\nwhich, nurtured and ripening this side of the\\ngrave, animate the frame that, springing from\\nearth at first, mingles with earth again at last\\nbe heaven-born, it can be no other than that which\\nbinds the husband to the wife of his bosom.\\nIt was but yesterday that a young gentleman of\\nfine intellect and of a noble heart, was suddenly\\nsnatched by the hand of Death from the endear-\\nments of life, in the midst of a brilliant career of\\nusefulness. Surrounded by every thing which could\\nmake existence pleasant and happy a wife who\\nidolized him children who loved him as they only\\ncan love, and friends devoted to him the sum-\\nmons came, and he lay upon the bed of death.\\nBut a few short years ago, she to whom he was\\nwedded had placed a bridal ring on his finger, up-\\non the inner side of which he had himself privately\\nengraven a few words. The husband would never\\npermit his young bride to read them, telling her\\nthat the day would come when her wish should be\\ngratified, and she should know the secret. Seven\\nyears glided happily away, and, when conscious\\nthat he must soon leave his wife forever, he called\\nher to his bedside, and with his dying accents told\\nher that the hour had at last come when she was\\nto see the words which had been his guide and\\nsolace since he pledged to her his love engraven\\nupon the ring. Though almost heart-broken with\\ngrief, the eyes of the young mother, as the tears", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "196 THE PLUME.\\nwere falling upon his cold cheek were riveted\\nupon the magic words, hidden from her for years,\\nbut now revealed at last I have loved thee\\nON earth MAY 1 MEET THEE IN HEAVEN. As\\nshe read them, the dying husband raised his head\\nfrom his pillow, placed the ring upon the young\\nmother s finger, kissed her, fell back and expired\\nHow touchingly beautiful this simple incident\\nThe garnered thoughts of years rush into that single\\nmoment, as the words greet the eye of the young\\nwife. Sorrow and wedded love, and the bright\\ndreams of the world the heart s dearest trea-\\nsures the endearments of the life that is past,\\nand the bliss of the life that is to come how they\\nmingle at this hour, as the widowed mother, placing\\nthe ring in her bosom, rushes to his dying pillow,\\nto catch his last breath, and impressing a kiss upon\\nhis cold forehead, weeps over the lifeless form\\nof the husband of her love Well might she\\nexclaim, in the fervent language of the widowed\\ndaughter of Judea, when greeted by her kinsmen\\nCall me not Naomi, call me Mara, for the\\n-Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me.\\nI have: liOVED THEE ON EARTH, MAY I MEET\\nTHEE IN HEAVEN.\\nOh, weep not, my love hark, voices celestial\\nNow call me away from the bright world and thee.\\nSweet visions of earth and pleasures terrestrial", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "THE LOVED AND LOST. 197\\nFrom my view, fadeaway see Death beckons to me\\nWeep not though the last tie that binds us be riven;\\nI have loved thee on earth, may I meet thee in heaven\\nThe tear in thine eye so sorrowfully glistening,\\nIs the seal of the love which hath bound me to thee;\\nThy faltering voice to mine ear as tis listening,\\nSoundeth not, love, as on that sweet eve of glee,\\nWhen to my arms as a bride thou wert given,\\nI have loved thee on earth, may I meet thee in heaven.\\nThe warm kiss, which now on my damp cheek thou pressest.\\nIs sweeter, love, far than thy bridal eve kiss;\\nThe one is the pledge that our earthly love blessest,\\nThe other of love in worlds better than this.\\nOh! weep not; the last tie now soon will be riven,\\nI have loved thee on earth, may I meet thee in heaven.\\nThe little ones, dearest, now weeping beside thee,\\nOh! the sweet treasures to thy bosom-shrine gather;\\nGod s blessing upon them, and, whatever betide thee.\\nLove, teach them to whisper the fond name of Father.\\nOh! tell them, my love, when life s last tie is riven,\\nI have loved them on earth, may I meet them in heaven.\\nFarewell, Love one kiss, one last, ere the summons\\nCalls me from thee, and in death I am sleeping\\nHard hard tis to leave thee forever, and loved ones,\\nFarewell, young bride of my heart! Still weeping\\nSee! heaven s gate opens; the last tie soon will be riven,\\nI have loved thee on earth, may I meet thee in heaven.\\n17*", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "198 THE PLUME.\\nThe ring on that eve which thou placed on this finger,\\nI have worn as a token of thy love, dear, for me;\\nTake it; as thine eyes on the talisman linger,\\nOh think that above re-united we ll be.\\nFarewell Eternity s portals are riven,\\nI hare loved thee on earth. Oh! meet me in heaven.\\nTHE ORPHANS.\\nIt was the dawn of summer time\\nAnd gentle as the breath of Heaven,\\nIts piniona laden as with thyme,\\nCame the sweet air Oh was it given\\nTo man, as his good angel s blessing,\\nTo cool his aching brow and calm\\nHis troubled soul, its hopes caressing\\nTurning its sleepless eye above,\\nTo Heaven, which there its hues impressing\\nChastens it with a holy love,\\nAnd pours within celestial balm\\nI stood among the village Graves,\\nAnd marked the slabs above the dead,\\nThese lines were published by Oakes, a year or two since, under the\\nname of the Bridal Ring the music by Mr. Maeder, the well-known\\ncomposer and pianist. In this shape, as well as through the press, they\\nhave had a wide circulation. There can be no impropriety in adding\\nthat the deceased friend, to whom they refer, was the late Peter Clark,\\nJp.jOf Nashua, one of the most gifted and amiable sons of Dartmouth, and\\nwhom to know was to love. May the turf be evergreen above his grave!", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "THE ORPHANS. 199\\nAs treading the tall grass that waves\\nBeside their cold, forgotten bed,\\nI traced their names and ages, graven\\nUpon the simple stones but one,\\nA new-made grave there was, a mound,\\nThough one of many yet alone,\\nWhich had no slab to mark the spot,\\nOr tell whose portal twas to Heaven.\\nThe modest wild-flowers breathed around\\nRich incense there but all forgot\\nThe beauty of their tinted leaves.\\nAnd odors which the air receives,\\nForgotten all, for as I stood\\nMusing on life which speaks of death,\\nIn every breeze that whispereth.\\nAnd thought of that Bright Brotherhood,\\nOn high, the Pure and Just and Good\\nI saw beside that grave (oh sight,\\nWorthy an angel s pen of light\\nTwo children kneeling. They had brought\\nFresh flowers to strew upon the sod,\\nWhere slept beneath the heart-enshrined,\\nThey who had trained their infant thought,\\nFrom the first dawning of the mind,\\nAnd turned their infant hearts to God.\\nThey knelt and as they prattled on,\\nTalking of little schemes begun\\nFather My Mother (Oh what words\\nAre dearer when by children spoken?\\nEach in itself all feeling hoards.", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "200 THE PLUME.\\nWith current ever warm, unbroken\\nBreathed from their lips. I heard them tell\\nIn that blithe tone we love so well.\\nHow pleasant twas with flowers to come,\\nAll desolate their happy home,\\nAnd kneel upon that new grave s edge.\\nNo mother s smile, no sire s caress\\nHave they in their deep loneliness,\\nGod bless them in their orphanage\\nThey knelt and in endearing tone,\\nAs when around the hearth they played,\\nPrattled were they in sweet commune\\nWith those dear ones beneath them laid\\nAnd ever and anon they seemed\\nBuried in sad and earnest thought,\\nWhich chased away the smiles that beamed\\nBut now upon their lips, and brought\\nA sense of their own loneliness\\nAnd then I saw them meekly press\\nTheir little hands together there,\\nAs she had taught them when in prayer\\nTheir lips moved gently and I heard,\\nIn accents low and yet how sweet.\\nWhen, Heaven-address d, the ear they meet.\\nWhat seemed to breathe of Holy Word.\\nOur Father I Thou who art in Heaven!\\nGive us each day our daily bread,\\nAnd let us not from thee be driven.\\nWho have not where to lay our head.\\nShe told us, who beneath is sleeping,\\nThou hear st the ravens when they cry,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "THE ORPHANS. 201\\nTake us, Father in thy keeping,\\nAnd oh restore us when we die\\nTo those beneath this sod who lie\\nAnd as they breathed their fervent prayer,\\nThey wept as children only weep\\nWhen seen no more those loved ones near,\\nWhose tender care hath known no sleep.\\nWhose kind, familiar faces, smiling\\nEver upon them, pain beguiling.\\nUnceasing vigils o er them keep.\\nThey wept, but rising from the mound.\\nBright smiles their features played around.\\nWhich seemed to say I m sure they said\\nWe know our prayer is answered.\\nI saw them stroll the graves among,\\nNow listening to the robin s song.\\nNow chasing the gay butterfly.\\nWhich with its brilliant wings skimm d by.\\nUnfeeling world Shall such be driven\\nFriendless away, without a haven\\nTo rest their weary feet, but lie\\nOn the cold earth, perchance to die\\nAs thus I mused, a female form,\\nA rainbow mid life s beating storm.\\nApproached, and walking where they lay\\nBeside a tomb-stone tired of play.\\nShe kissed their rosy cheeks and brow,\\nAnd gently spake I hear her now\\nMother! they thus to speak began\\nTo her, their Good Samaritan\\nMother She took them by the hand", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "202 THE PLUME.\\nAnd led them to her home, which bland\\nAnd gentle voices, ever heard.\\nMade dearer than to storm-toss d bird\\nHis own warm nest. Oh blessed deed\\nThat o er the soul such beauty flings,\\nClaimingf no other boon or meed\\nThan the pure pleasure which it brings.\\nIt shall be registered on high,\\nAnd when Death s shadow hovers nigh,\\nIt shall unbar the gates of Heaven,\\nAnd to that angel entrance there be given\\nThose orphans shall not wake again\\nTo penury and want and pain\\nI said. My thoughts then unaware\\nFound, utterance in a fervid prayer.\\nOh Thou God of the Fatherless\\nIt is to thee we turn alway,\\nWhen sorrow s blight and deep distress\\nTo darkness turn the brightest day\\nOh shield with thy protecting wing,\\nThe orphan who the sweets of home\\nKnows not, but poor and wandering,\\nGod let him not an outcast roam,\\nUnfriended, houseless and alone.\\nTempted from virtue s path, and thrown\\nInto the haunts of wretchedness,\\nWith no kind one to guard and bless.\\nGuide thou his erring steps through life,\\nI And arm him for its hottest strife,\\nThat when the fierce encounter comes", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "4-\\nTHEY SAY HE IS ANOTHER S NOW. 203\\nIn the world s battle (no loud drums\\nOr trumpets sounding) he may meet\\nThe foe like one with armor bright,\\nAnd clad in virtue s steel of might,\\nLay the last foe beneath his feet.\\nThus arm him, Father and at last,\\nWhen the great strife with Death is past,\\nGive him a home with thee on high,\\nIn that Celestial Company,\\nWhere dry the Orphan s tear and sigh\\nAnd when his mission Time shall end.\\nAnd Thou proclaim st the good deeds given,\\nGod in thy Book, which glory lend\\nTo woman s name while here below.\\nIn all her love, her toils and woe\\nIf one there be which nearest Heaven\\nBrings her, and doth all virtues blend,\\nOh this shall first be found there graven\\nShe was through life the Orphan s Friendi\\nTHEY SAY HE IS ANOTHER S NOW!\\nThey say he is another s now.\\nThat I no more his smile shall see,\\nOh say not so he would not break\\nThe solemn vow he pledged to me.\\nThey tell me like the diamond s ray.\\nHer love-lit eyes upon him shine\\nCan he forget those sacred hours,\\nWhen every prayer he breathed was mine\\n4-", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "204 THE PLUME.\\nThey say he is anotlier s now\\nOh, no I his love is mine alone\\nIf not my lips, speak not my tears,\\nThis breaking heart his own his own\\nThey tell me that lie still is fifay,\\nAnd that he never lisps my name\\nCan he forget the face that smiled\\nSo dear a welcome when he came\\nThey say he is another s now,\\nWhose witching tones delight his ear\\nHath he forgot the favorite airs,\\nI used to sing when he was near?\\nThey tell me he no more will come,\\nNor at the door his step be heard\\nCan he forget our moonlight walks.\\nThe sweet embrace, tlie parting word\\nThey say he is another s now\\nMy heart is like a cherished flower.\\nWhich not till crush d, around the vase\\nIts long imprisoned sweets will shower.\\nCan he forget when first it bloomed.\\nIn all love s primrose colors drest,\\nWhen plucking it from where it grew.\\nHe nursed it gently in his breast.\\nThey say he is another s now\\nAnd I a poor forgotten thing\\nOh no, oh no he bade me wear\\nFor his dear sake this treasured ring.\\nThey do but jest who say his lips", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "THEY SAY HE IS ANOTHER S NOW. 205 1\\nAnother s clieeks have press d than mine\\nCan he forget the garden bower,\\nThe kiss behind the trellis d vine\\nThey say he is another s now\\nWho, for his love, her home forgot\\nThat I must think of him no\u00c2\u00bbmore\\nIt cannot be, oh! say it not.\\nThe heart will hoard its secret love,\\nAs hoards the miser s hand his gold\\nIt counts its treasures, one by one,\\nAnd grasps them in its dying hold.\\nThey say he is another s now\\nThat vain are all the tears I shed\\nIt may be so can I forget\\nThat to his heart my own was wed?\\nCan he forget the early love.\\nThat clung to him so pure and deep\\nThe smile so gay when he was gay.\\nThe eye that wept when he did weep\\nThey say he is another s now\\nThat I shall see him not again\\nShe cannot love as I have loved.\\nShe cannot be what I have been.\\nOh, do not say that he forgets\\nHe loves me yet he loves me yet\\nThe vow, the smile, the kiss, the tear\\nCan he forget can he forget\\n18", "height": "3461", "width": "1809", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "206 THE PLUME.\\nMRS. NICELY S SYSTEM OF ECONOMY.\\nMrs. Nicely was cried up by certain people as\\nthe very pink of economy. The word was cer-\\ntainly often on her ligs so much so, indeed, that\\nshe began to think she really was one of the most\\nprudent and economical wives in the world.\\nMr. Nicely, my dea^*/ said Mrs. Nicely a\\nfew months after marriage, I have been thinking\\nthat you are too extravagant by half.\\nMr. Nicely threw one leg over the other, and\\npuffed away leisurely upon his cigar. I dare\\nsay, Mrs. Nicely but a married man must look\\nto his wife to cure him of his little extravagan-\\ncies, you know so I hope to reform soon. Have\\nyou reference to any particular instance of prodi-\\ngality\\nWhy, continued Mrs. Nicely, here you\\nhave spent more than a hundred dollars in the\\nlast few months at the tailor s, hatter s and shoe-\\nmaker s, merely to cover your person\\nWhy, surely you d have my person covered\\nand decently, Mrs. Nicely\\nIf, continued she, without heeding the inter-\\nruption if I I, Mr. Nicely, had only had jthe\\nlaying out of that money, instead of your expend-\\ning it so extravagantly\\nWell, Mrs. Nicely, how would you have spent", "height": "3502", "width": "1859", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "MRS. NICELy s system OF ECONOMY. 207\\nit Pray give me an idea of your system of\\neconomy.\\nWhy, in the first place, I would have bought\\nme three or four nice silk gowns, like the Misses\\nBeaver women must wear gowns, you know,\\nMr. Nicely, and then I would have bought a\\nnumber of tables, chairs, boxes, barrels, cradles,\\nand many other articles of furniture, to be stored\\naway in the garret against a wet day a time\\nof need, which you know, Mr. Nicely, is likely to\\novertake us all.\\nAnd nothing would hasten it sooner than such\\na system of economy as yours, allow me to say,\\nMrs. Nicely.\\nWhy, there s Mrs. Dashaway, and Mrs. Horn-\\npipe I have induced them to practise on this\\nsystem, and finding they have succeeded so well,\\nI mean to carry it out myself.\\nYou have not heard, Mrs. Nicely, that Mr\\nDashaway and Mr Hornpipe both failed last night?\\nFailed! You astonish me, Mr. Nicely. It\\nwas because their wives did not equalize their ex-\\npenses. Economy is not so much a retrenchment\\nof expenditures as equalizing them upon necessary\\nobjects upon things that will one day come in\\nuse. That s the true philosophy of economy, Mr.\\nNicely.\\nI do not exactly understand your system of\\nequalizing expenditures.\\n4", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "208 THE PLUME.\\nPooh pooh you are decidedly stupid to-\\nday, Mr. Nicely. Nothing is plainer. Now take\\nthat cigar you are smoking, for instance. Pray\\nwhat did you give for that cigar\\nThis! oh, this is a Regalia a a what\\nthey call a three-center, I believe.\\nThree cents for a cigar, Mr. Nicely oh\\nLord how extravagant We must have some\\nregard for economy. Three cents Lordy if\\nyou had only let me equalize the expense On-\\nly think, Mr. Nicely, what a monstrous lot of su-\\ngar ylums I inight have bought for three cents\\nThis is what Mrs. Nicely called equalizing\\nexpenses. There are many Mrs. Nicelys in\\nthe world people who preach up that kind of\\neconomy which is for getting rid of one luxury,\\nmerely to substitute another in the place of it,\\nequally expensive who are always talking of\\neconomy, but never practise it who blame others\\nfor extravagance, while they are themselves an\\nillustration of its effects and who are for laying\\nup every little trifle, nick-nack, and piece of furni-\\nture that strikes their fancy, merely because it is\\ncheap, and they have an idea that a day may ar-\\nrive when it will come into use. True economy\\nis a commendable and praiseworthy virture, but\\nthat mongrel species of it, more properly called\\nextravagance, which is preached up by the Mrs.\\nNicelys of the world, and which, instead of a prop-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "APRIL AND JUNE.\\n209\\ner husbandry of means, and retrenchment of ex-\\npenditures, merely devises ways of diverting them\\nfrom a single channel of luxury into a dozen dif-\\nferent ones, is the ruin of many, and unless exam-\\nple treads closer on the heels of precept, will yet\\nbe the ruin of thousands. Lordy how very ex-\\ntravagant, exclaim these economical and expense-\\nequalizing Mrs. Nicelys why only think how\\nMANY SUGAR PLUMS I MIGHT HAVE BOUGHT WITH\\nTHE SAME MONEY\\nAPRIL AND JUNE.\\nWelcome, sweet April to the earth once more\\nTo the bright rivers and the woodland bowers\\nNo jewelled bride more brilliant robes e er wore,\\nWhen love and beauty graced her bridal hours,\\nThan thine, while lawn and hill thou trippest o er.\\nBraiding thy chaplet of young leaves and flowers.\\nEarth blooms before thee, as with step of pride\\nThou comest now, so like a blushing bride.\\nSweet daisies line the margin of the rills.\\nThe mountain brooks and the broad inland streams,\\nViolets bloom upon the verdant hills\\nWith thousand tints, in summer s golden beams\\nThe blue-bird at thy coming early trills\\n18*", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "210 THE PLUME.\\nHis song, and gold-finch shows the brilliant gleams\\nor his gay plumage, as he pours his note,\\nWarbled to thee in sweetness, from his throat.\\nThe trees for thee put on their dress of green,\\nTheir silken tresses and their coronals\\nOf blossoms, and new buds, when thou art seen\\nRobed like a fairy in her queenly halls\\nThe wild-flower springeth where thy step hath been,\\nAnd on thy path a wreath of roses falls,\\nStrewn there to scatter all their sweet perfume,\\nAs thou dost pass in thy young, mellow bloom.\\nAnd thou art welcome, were it but to hear\\nNew England s pride, the robin, trill his song\\nHis old familiar perch, the window near,\\nHe seeks at dawn, and pours his music long\\nThe old man wakes, and knows his notes, so dear\\nAnd loved his old remembrances among\\nEre yet his window lets in morning s beam,\\nHow oft that song hath mingled with his dream\\nThou sweet, mild summer breeze! how grateful thou\\nTo earth and all its living things once more\\nViewless, yet felt, there s healing with thee now\\nAs the sick couch at eve- thou breathest o er\\nAnd thou art welcome to the healthy brow,\\nDelightful voyager welcome to the shore\\nThy summer bark skims lightly o er the sea.\\nWith freight more precious than rich argosy.\\nThe student greets thee in his smoky cell.\\nAs o er the page he bends, so pale and weak,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "4-\\nAPRIL AND JUNE. 211 i\\nHis eye chained down, as if beneath a spell\\nHe feels thee gently coming to his cheek,\\nFresh bloom to bring and weariness dispel,\\nKissing his brow, and wooing him to seek,\\nThe forest path, the cool and breezy rivers.\\nEre yet the sun-beam on the mountain quivers.\\nAt morn the grey old man doth leave his home.\\nAnd lean upon his staff to greet thee now,\\nHe bares his head to thee, as thou dost come\\nAnd part the hoary locks from his hot brow\\nHow sweet to him He blesses thee, as some\\nKind, watching spirit, sent to spread the glow\\nOf youth s bright tints his cheeks and temples o er,\\nAnd kindle boyhood s feelings up once more.\\nThe virgin seeks her bower and wooeth thee,\\nTo sport thy fingers with her tresses fair\\nShe feels thy cool breath to her cheeks come free.\\nAnd in her sweet dalliance wave her silken hair\\nThousteal st sweet perfume from the blooming tree,\\nKissest her cheek and spreadest crimson there\\nDelicious breeze! she hails thee to her bower.\\nAnd woos thy coming in soft evening s hour.\\nBut, Summer with thy glories thou shalt fall\\nInto the tomb of Autumn and shalt die\\nO er thee, as shrouded in thy dreary pall\\nThe cold and piercing wi: te.-wind will sigh.\\nAnd yet each year shalt thou come forth till all\\nEarth s seasons die so to Eternity,\\nTriumphant from the chambers of the tomb,\\nMiiii w.ll lise radiant wi.h celestial bloom.", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "212 THE PLUME.\\nTHE MOUNTAINEER.\\n(music by MARSHALL.)\\nIt is I am the Mountaineer\\nMy kingdom the green-wood free\\nMy subjects the wild bird and deer,\\nMy palace the spreading tree.\\nI climb up the craggy mountain,\\nAnd inhale its bracing airs,\\nI drink at the gushing fountain,\\nAnd laugh at the world and its cares.\\nFor tis I am the Mountaineer\\nHa ha I am the Mountaineer\\nMy throne is the bleak rock riven,\\nWhere the eagle builds his nest\\nMid the dark clouds tempest-driven\\nO er the mountain s lordly crest.\\nLet the world jog on as it may,\\nOh where is the home like mine\\nI can laugh at care ill I m gray,\\nMid the oak and mountain pine.\\nFor tis I am, c.\\nMy sceptre is the rifle dearer\\nThan fairest bride ever won\\nOh what to the heart can be nearer\\nThan the shrill and cracking gun\\n4-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "ON VISITIiNG A GRAVE. 213\\nIt rings along the mountain crags,\\nWith its music glad and free\\nIt laughs at the world, howe er it wags\\nHo a mountain life for me\\nFor tis I am, c.\\nI love the anthem, grand and deep,\\nThat swells o er my palace high,\\nMid the thunder s roll and tempest s sweep.\\nAs the bolts around me fly.\\nI laugh at the storms of life, whose din\\nGives the world without no rest,\\nFor rage as they may, peace smiles within\\nMy home on the mountain s crest\\nFor tis I am the Mountaineer\\nHa ha I am the Mountaineer\\nON VISITING A GRAVE.\\nThree summers, love, their dews have shed\\nAbove the sod v/here thou dost sleep\\nStill bleeds my heart as erst it bled,\\nAnd still I weep.\\nI pluck the sweet, briyht-tinted flov.-crs,\\nWhich spring has strewn upon thy tomb\\nThey whisper of those blissful hours.\\nIn thy young bloom", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "4-\u00e2\u0084\u00a2\\n214 THE PLUME.\\nWhen to my heart, love, thou wast given.\\nEre yet these eyes with tears were wet,\\nAnd earth to us seemed bright as Heaven\\nCan I Ibrget\\nWhen, happy all and merry save thee,\\nAs is a gladsome bird in Spring,\\nThou blushing at my side, I gave thee\\nTliat bridal ring\\nWhen thou did st smile so sweetly on me,\\nAnd press thy lips upon my brow.\\nAnd ask God s dearest blessing on me\\nI see thee now\\nThy form celestial greets mine eyes,\\nAs when thy words did time beguile,\\nLike vpice of one from Paradise\\nAnd that bright smile\\nWhen round our hearts Love spread his wiles.\\nEre Sorrow o er their chords had swept\\nWhen smiled the Mother in tliy smiles\\nWith thee I wept\\nIn joy we wept, that to thy bosom\\nSo sweet a ciierub, love, was given,\\nTo nurture as a lovely blossom\\nSent thee from Heaven\\nWhen Death stole to our Eden bower,\\nThe little fragle bud to take,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "TO MARY. 215\\nI thought, as thou gav st up the flower,\\nThy heart would break\\nCould I, as at thy grave I kneel.\\nBut hear thine angel footsteps come,\\nTo bless, ere on Death s shadows steal,\\nMy widow d home,\\nI d fold thee to my heart again,\\nAnd crave thy presence now, to bless\\nHer, who oft upon thy cheek hath lain,\\nIn sweet caress.\\nStill she is left, to watch and love me,\\nThine image dear sw^eet sainted one\\nWho bitter tears will shed above me.\\nWhen I am gone\\nTO MARY,\\n[A beautiful child suddenly stopping in the midst of her sports\\nto gaze upon the brilliant clouds at sunset.]\\nBounding, jumping, romping Mary\\nThy laugh so full of glee,\\nWhy stoppest thou, my little fairy,\\nThe gorgeous clouds to see\\nWhat vision bright, or sudden thought\\nHath hushed thy merry laugh and shout\\nh", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "216 THE PLUME.\\nSkipping, dancing-, tripping Mary\\nFleet as the agile fawn,\\nWhy leave the ring, where dance so merry,\\nThy playmates on the lawn\\nThey call thee, but thou heedest not\\nThe hoop and swing alike forgot.\\nMirthful, playful, gleeful Mary I\\nDost see the gates of heaven,\\nWhere bathes the clouds, like phantoms airy,\\nThe golden light of even\\nCharmeth some angel s form thine eye,\\nWho calls thee to thy native sky\\nLaughing, prattling, sporting Mary\\nNow tell me, what shall be\\nThe tint of sky, sunlit or starry,\\nTo which I ll liken thee\\nThe softest shades of heaven s own blue\\nThose lustrous eyes seem melting through.\\nBlue-eyed, bright-eyed, blue-eyed Mary\\nThe rosy tints of even\\nAre woven in thy cheeks, my fairy,\\nLike hues that melt in heaven\\nThe sweetest tints at day s decline,\\nHave not so sweet a blush as thine.\\nBlushing, blooming, blushing Mary\\nTo what shall I compare\\nThe ringlets flowing, soft and airy,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "TO MARY. 217\\nUpon thy neck so fair\\nThey re like the golden clouds that weave\\nTheir tresses on the brow of eve.\\nGolden, sunny, fair-haired Mary\\nWhere shall my pencil dip,\\nIn tints above, to paint the cherry\\nVermilion of thy lip\\nThere are no hues, o er clouds tha^ play?\\nBut fade beside those lips away.\\nGleesome, winsome, gladsome Mary\\nThat merry heart of thine\\nLaughs through thy dimpled cheeks, my fairy.\\nIn every tint and line.\\nNo sullen cloud that floats on high\\nIs imaged in thy heart or eye.\\nLovely, cherub, dove-like Mary\\nSo frolicksome and gay\\nFar be the day, when angels carry\\nThee to their home away\\nThat face so sweet, that radiant smile,\\nBespeak thy spirit free from guile.\\nDear, celestial, angel Mary\\nOf love and beauty bright\\nHeaven to thee hath not been chary,\\nThou laughing little sprite\\nIts brightest smiles beam in thine own.\\nAnd all its hues are round thee thrown.\\n19", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "218 THE PLUME.\\nEDITORIAL COMFORTS.\\nDrizzle Drizzle Drizzle There is noth-\\nino- which sooner takes the starch out of the intel-\\nlectual dickey, than your true blue dog-day weath-\\ner, when one vibrates, like a pendulum, between\\nthe dumps and that peculiar titillation of the\\nspirits, occasioned by the genial sunshine. The\\nanimal spirits, too, become limber and pendulous\\nunder the atmospheric influences. The whole\\nman is transformed into a walking sensitive plant,\\nalive to the slightest touch upon his physical or\\nmetaphysical, his social or his intellectualepider-\\nmis. The change, also, is so rapid from hot to\\ncold, from cloudy to sunshine, from the clear and\\nbright to vapor, mist and fog, with all imagin-\\nable shades, degrees and differences, interspersed\\nin the evening with an occasional commingling of\\ndaw-bugs, fire-flies and cock-roaches, that he must\\nbe fastidious indeed, who finds nothing to his taste in\\nsome one of the comical varieties of dog-day weath-\\ner. You start from the door-stone with an um-\\nbrella, to fence off the mist or drizzling fog,\\nand before reaching your journey s end, it serves\\nas a damper to the concentrated rays of the blaz-\\ning sun. Perhaps you shiver in the morning in an", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 219\\novercoat, while at noon you bake under shooting\\nfires, and become of the consistency and color of\\na mummy, three centuries old. If you get out of\\nhumor with the weather during the day, yet what\\nample compensation does night bring with it,\\nas you lay you head upon the pillow. Dog-days\\nare sure to be followed by cat-nights. You wake\\nafter a slight doze, and hear a catawauling under\\nyour window, or are roused from sleep by a whole\\nposse of the canine race, serenading in the front\\nyard. If you happen to have* the tooth-ache, so\\nmuch the better for your enjoyment of the music.\\nPerhaps some dog, more ambitious to please than\\nthe rest, will play you a fresh solo to each jump\\nof your tooth, or the whole orchestra of feline\\nperformers join in a grand fantasia, worthy of\\nthe King of Catgut, to soothe your shooting\\npains. When you rise in the morning, after toss-\\ning about the bed all night, and stand cogitating\\nwith yourself before the window, whether it is best\\nto go muffled in thick clothes or in a summer dres s\\nten to one you see a dozen dogs running, single file,\\nround a barn at a distance, as if chasing each\\nothers tails, and howling as they go or, per-\\nchance, a sleek-tailed rooster crawling under a cart\\nin the yard, as wel as a drowned rat, and grum-\\nbling because he cannot change his coat. And\\nyet he seems to chuckle over the general down-in-\\nthe-mouth aspect of every thing around him, as if\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24*", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "n\\n220 THE PLUME.\\nhis chicken-hearted progeny were safe from the spit\\nfor another day Presently he crows hoarsely,\\nas if he had taken a severe cold, and anon as you\\nwatch his long, sleek and dripping tail feathers, the\\ndogs have filed round in front of the barn again, and\\nset up a long, simultaneous and most querimoni-\\nous howl, as if in honor of the advent of their patron\\nStar, and his season of triumph. It is a general\\nholiday the Dog-star rages, and every dog has\\nhis day and his night too, during its ascendancy.\\nDrizzle Drizzle T Drizzle\\nYes, believe me, there is nothing which takes\\nthe starch out of one s social nature, or loosens his\\nintellectual joints, like weather of this description.\\nBut an editor has a thousand little vexations, un-\\nknown to others, which acquire fresh life and in-\\ntensity under its influences. Four or five visitors\\ndrop in, some to extend their commiseration upon\\nthe cheerless aspect of things without, or to read\\nthe news within, and others to present him with some\\nwonderful vegetable or animal monstrosity. He sits\\nat his table to write, and while the tongues of his\\nvisitors keep time with his quill, in runs the office-\\nboy, so hungry for copy, that he snaps at a bit of\\npaper like a pike at a minnow. He rubs his fore-\\nhead for an idea, and if he be so fortunate as to\\ncatch one, even by the tail-feather, it slips back\\nunperceived, and soon makes its exit out of some\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24*", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 221\\nopen window in his brain, before he has a chance\\nto pin it down with the point of his pen. In a word,\\nwhat with calls for copy, exhaustion from atmos-\\npherical influences without, and official influences\\nwithin, the editor has the dumps to such a degree\\nat this season, that you might fancy an east-wind\\nwas constantly playing at every avenue of his\\nheart. Drizzle Drizzle Copy Copy Driz-\\nzle Copy\\nScene First. Interior of an Editor^s Sanctum.\\nThe Knight of the Inky Thumb seated at his\\ntable, ivriting and smoking. Half a dozen\\nloafers distributed about the room^ reading pa-\\nyers one looking over his shoulders, another\\nwith his legs on the chair editorial, and a third\\nsitting on his tabic. Boy calling for copy.\\nThree or four loafers passing in and out.\\nDevil. Copy, Sir\\nEditor. Imp go back Distribute what you ve\\nset up and set it over again.\\nDevil. Yes, sir.\\nPatron. Well, Squire, do you think this cold\\nweather is owing to the comet\\nEd. Why, y-e-s quite likely. You see\\n19*", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "222 THE PLUME.\\nthe comet has no doubt made a dive at the North\\nPole and got a few thousand acres of ice hooked\\non it s tail.\\nFatron. Should think it would melt in such a\\nhot place.\\nEd, It does hence the continual uncorking\\nof the bottles overhead.\\nBoy. Here s a marriage, Sir, and cake, Sir, for\\nthe paper.\\nEd. Yes, Sir. Thankee Sir. I ll try to find a\\nplace for them both.\\nDevil. Copy, Sir. All out, vSir waiting\\nFarmer. Here s a Thanksgiving pumpkin, Sir,\\nand a long-necked squash, and a dozen nice cu-\\ncumbers, and potatoes and an old cheese, which\\nMr. Whisp begs you to accept.\\nDevil. Copy, Sir.\\nLoafer. What s the news to-day, Mr. Editor.\\nDevil. Here s a sentence I can t make out\\nthe word looks like abominable Can t read\\nyour writing, Sir.\\nEd. throiving doiv7ikis pe?i and jumping vp. Good\\nfilks, be merciful. One at a time, ifl you please\\nYou infernal little copy devil Set up that mar-\\nriage, and request printers in Ohio, Nova Scotia,\\nTimbuctoo and Lands End to notice the same and\\nsend their bills to this office and spin out the\\nsentence to the four corners of the world, you pest\\nAnd you, my dear Sir, tell Mr. Whisp I thank him", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 223\\nfor his long-necked cheese, potatoes, old cucum-\\nbers and dried squashes, from the bottom of my\\nheart I thank him. He s a fine fellow to think of\\nthe editor. Can t make out the sentence Why\\nyou ve lost the slip that had the verb on t, and now\\nhave the impudence to come to me with the nom-\\ninative case Off Scud Read your own copy\\nfor yourself Come here to get your words read\\nZounds go to your dictionary it s enough for\\nme to write You lose the head, and come to\\nme with the tail of a sentence, a plague on you all\\nPatron. Here s an accident, Sir.\\nEd. Thankee, Sir Glad o nt hope its noth-\\ning very horrid. Our accident-maker was ruined\\nsome months ago. He was rash enough to sup-\\npose the shower was over, and shut up his um-\\nbrella and was sun-struck at once in conse-\\nquence What s your accident, Mr. Megrim\\nPatron. Why, a man in Dog Hollow was\\nshaving himself while it stormed yesterday, and\\nwas so startled at the noise that he cut his\\nhead off close to his feet. Some say he dropped\\nhis razor and stepped over it, but that is a down-\\nright exaggeration, Sir Downright exagger-\\nation\\nEd. Certainly no doubt of it most certainly\\nMr. Megrim It is an unjustifiable exaggeration,\\nMr. Megrim It spoils the story and is no\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a04-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "4-\\n224 THE PLUME.\\nhorrid accident at all. It shall be mentioned with-\\nout the least exaggeration, Sir Here Sam\\nDevil when out of copy set up, that a man cut\\nhis dog s tail off close to his ears in a thunder\\nstorm, Bill and Peter you may finish the sen-\\ntence, and say the dog jumped over the razor\\nwhen his head was off you said, Mr. Megrim,\\nI think. Harkee Sam and when you get\\nthrough, head it Horrid Accident. Confu-\\nsion how one s head swims in these days\\nLoafer. Mr. Editor, I ve brought you a daw-\\nbug three inches long want you to notice it.\\nEd. It s worth noticing for its smallness, that s\\nall got some forked against the ceiling there,\\nthat you might mistake for lobsters. Going to\\nreport them as public nuisances.\\nDevil. Here s a line I can t make out, Sir. It\\nlooks like\\nQeter Qijer gicked a qeck of pickled qeqqers\\nEd. Back, imp and mind your P s and Q s.\\nVisitor. You the Editor, Sir\\nEd. What s left of that happy mortal, at\\nyour service, Sir.\\nVisitor. Mr. Quince wishes you to give public\\nnotice that there is a great mistake in the Alma-\\nnac for this year three days being left out of\\nJuly.\\nEd. They have got crowded into August,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 225\\nto make out the dog-days, that s, all. I ll make a\\nparagraph of it, and state that the Clerk of the\\nweather does nt keep his accounts right.\\nVisitor. Thankee, Sir, and Mr. Quince asked\\nme to state that Mr. Codger, the Almanac-maker,\\nwas struck with an apoplexy, while calculating an\\neclipse yesterday. He was son of old Deacon\\nCodger of Bungtown, who had his long-tailed coat\\ncut into a short jacket by a ball at Bunker Hill,\\nand the jury gave their verdict that he died of\\ninformation on the brain.\\nEd. It shall be done, Sir.\\nLoafer. Here s some poetry, Sir.\\nEd. Thankee, Sir it must be doggerel, if\\nmanufactured in this dog-day weather Let s see\\nLines to a Cowcumber. Why, that s cooling,\\nto begin with Let s read.\\nDevil. Copy Sir Copy\\nEd. Vanish! imp! scud evaporate! or I ll\\nknock you into the middle of next week for tor-\\nmenting one in such blazing weather as this\\nBack to your den Hungry, never-satisfied tor-\\nmentor and twister of the brain Back, I say\\nWon t eight columns of manuscript do, but you\\nmust yelp more more more One feels as\\nuncomfortable in such an eternal din, as a dog who\\nhas got his head into a junk bottle, and can t get it\\n4-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "I 226 THE PLUME,\\nout again. Now let us run over these Cowcum-\\nber, lines. (Reads.)\\nThou green and luscious sparkler of the vine\\nCowcuniber thy sweet daintiness I sing\\nNot all the grapes that cluster near the Rhine\\nWould set my mouth so soon a watering\\nSo cool so brisk so tempting to the tongue\\nUngrateful they, who not of thee have sung\\nI know not whether Eden in her bloom,\\nWith all her wealth of fruits and virgin flowers,\\nCould boast that thou wast kissed by each perfume,\\nThe breezes stole from her celestial bowers\\nWast thou the fruit that tempted mother Eve\\nAlas for this so many o er tliee grieve\\nEach city Belle who takes her promenade\\nAt Fashion s shrine a constant devotee,\\nWith all her furbelows would find it hard\\nTo deck herself, cool vegetable, like thee\\nOh would like thee each Beauty could be seen\\nThrough all life s stages still forever green\\nThe parson will not whisper grace o er thee.\\nThou blessed, scripture-celebrated one I\\nThe lawyer grasps at thee as at his fee.\\nHis brother shuns thee as a hated dun.\\nThe doctor svv^allows thee, and his patients bids\\nTo shun thee swollen with cholera seeds.\\nThou cunning Tempter Tickler of the palate\\nToo oft backbiters tongues have cut thee up\\nE en while they foully slandered thee, all ate\\nThen drank confusion to thee from the cup\\nBlasphemers vile", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 227\\nVery cool, refreshing and philosophical verses\\nto read in dog-day weather. As the sun has thrust\\nout his jaundiced visage for a second, I ll step out.\\nSam if you want more copy set up those\\nLines to a violin very good dog-day reading\\nbeoinninop\\nThou screeching, unharmonious thing\\nAcross that fellow s arm\\n1 wish you d stop, that I might hear\\nAlbina sing a psalm c.\\nDevil. Yes, Sir.\\nEd. And, Sam, if you want any more copy\\ntake these lines on a Bell. Be sure and not print\\nthem Lines on a Belle. That would be a sad\\nmistake though, to be sure, the tongue of the one\\nis as constantly going and on the clatter, as that\\nof the other {reads.)\\nIn youth it jingles us on to school,\\nAnd it jingles us home to dinner.\\nIt jingles the wise man, it jingles the fool.\\nIt jingles the saint, it jingles the sinner,\\nIt jingles the doctor, it jingles the preacher.\\nIt jingles the lawyer, it jingles the teacher,\\nIt jingles us all, whate er we re about,\\nIt jingles us in life and will jingle us out.\\nEnter Loafer. Sir Mrs. Cataplasm sends her\\ncompliments and wishes to know if you can tell", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "228 THE PLUME.\\nher, why it is that cats are everywhere seen\\nchasing their tails in such weather as this. The\\nladies are all disputing about it, and have agreed\\nto leave it out to you.\\nEd. Sir My compliments to the ladies of the\\nReform Society in general and to Mrs. Cataplasm\\nin particular. Tell them the reason a cat chases\\nher tail so fast, in dry weather, is easily explained\\non philosophical principles. The caloric and elec-\\ntricity of the atmosphere collect at that extreme\\nwith such oppressive intensity, that poor puss be-\\ncomes exceedingly sensitive. If on a house-top,\\nshe jumps to the earth, and is sure to fall on\\nher feet, if not on her tail. If on the ground,\\nthe sensation becomes so painful, that she flies\\nround after her tail and tries to catch it, till\\nshe becomes involved in a complete gyration. The.\\nreason she runs to the water, the moment a shower\\nfalls, is, like many bipeds, to do that by dipping\\nwhich she cannot do by scratching, viz to keep\\ncool. This is the only theory I can advance on the\\nsubject.\\nLoafer. Thankee, Sir. Mrs. Cataplasm will be\\ninfinitely obliged.\\nEd. No doubt. Now let me run away from\\nthese pests.\\nEnter Messenger. Is the Editor in, Sir\\nEd. He will not be in a second, if he can get\\nout. What news. Sir\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24*^", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 229\\nMessenger. Mr. Smallclothes, Sir, wished me\\nto see this safe in your hands. It s a poetical con-\\ntribution for the paper. He wished me to take\\nword back whether it could go in.\\nEd. I can tell better, when I see it. What\\nis it about\\nMessenger. Well, Sir, Mr. Smallclothes has\\nsuffered so much, in various ways, from the\\nsmallness of his nose, that his feelings have found\\nan outlet in verse.\\nEd. Ah\\nMessenger. He begs, therefore, you will insert\\nit as soon as you possibly can, as his present suf-\\nferings are perfectly intolerable. I will read it.\\nSir, if you will wait a moment, for I see you have\\nyour cane and are about going out.\\nEd. Heavens and earth Well be quick,\\nStanzas to his Nose, are they\\nMessenger. The same Sir. Its rather a small sub-\\nject, to be sure, but he handles it with real gusto.\\nWhy Sir, just listen, and see if he does nt give\\nthat nose of his a strong pull, a long pull, and a\\npull altogether, {reads.)\\nMy nose my nose^! oh mercy me my dreadful little\\nnose\\nWhy can t we have a settlement, small cause of all^ my\\nwoes\\n20\\n-k-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "4\\n230\\nTHE PLUME.\\nOh why art thou so flat, ao pug, queer handle of my face\\nTo make of me a laughing stock, and bring me to disgrace\\nMy whiskers both are large and black they suit me very\\nwell\\n1 put them off and on again to please each city belle\\nBut thou art fixed, forever fixed between my mouth and eye.\\nThou little dot I wish thou wert more prominent and high.\\nMy pantaloons are just the cut, the best that Snip could\\nmake\\nMy coat the richest blue, or black, all for the ladies sake;\\nBut yet, ah me what use are they, thou cause of so much\\nill\\nI wish thou wert but half as long as is my tailor s bill.\\nAnd if I walk to quiz the girls, as now and then I do,\\nOr at a corner take my stand, particularly blue.\\nEach dandy holds his quizzing glass, then, grinning, onward\\ngoes.\\nHe thinks the fool I do not know he tries to spy my\\nnose.\\nYour feet are large enough, one says, they re always in\\nthe way\\nI made an accidental step on one the other day\\nYou d I etter keep those feet, says she, oflf decent peo-\\nple s toes.\\nAnd make them to change places with your something of\\na nose.\\nOh dear the jokes, the jibes, the jests, that saucy fellows\\nplay,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 231\\nWith noses large, and fair and square, at every time of day\\nHow strait and tall that exquisite each Bantam dandy\\ncrows\\nAh, happy gentleman no wife will lead him by the nose.\\nI waked from pleasant sleep one morn, and saw upon the\\nwall,\\nA little and a large nose drawn, with this tremendous scrawl\\nI You d better have no nose at all, than such a nose as this,\\ni) But one like to that large one there, were ecstacy of bliss\\nAnd BO they talk and laugh at me, all safe within their sleeve,\\nTheir every word doth touch me quick and make me sorely\\ngrieve\\nThey speak their daggers to my face, and rub me very close,\\nFor he, say they, at all our pranks can ne er turn up hii\\nnose.\\nI am near-sighted, too and plump I ran against a girl\\nOh, if you had a nose, cried she, I d give it such a\\ntwirl\\nI ask your pardon, dear I said, I ll make you fit\\namends\\nNot as you knows said she, oh no, we never can\\nbe friends.\\nAh me and specs, I never can, I never can look through\\nI And so I twirl my cane all day, not knowing what to do\\nI lounge about the gallery, to see the pictures close\\nBut every painted man and girl has something for a nose.\\nAt two I take my dinner cheap at some new eating house.\\nAt sight of me the exquisites are still as any mouse", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "4-\\n232\\nTHE PLUME.\\nHow could, say they, this noseless fellow smell us at\\nour blows\\nHow much he doth intrude himself, we re sure he little\\nknows.^^\\nUpon that Lilliputian nose he ne er can tread, say one\\nBut Sir thus cries a second out before the first is done,\\nAnd yet tis strange he every where is poking in his nose.\\nOh would that Ovid s nose were mine, with wart like\\nCicero s\\nThe barber ne er can cut my nose, while he is shaving me,\\nYour ears are long enough, says he, for nose defi-\\nciency.\\nThey call me the Noseologist and fix it as I can,\\nI certainly am now, and aye shall be a half-nosed man.\\nGood name in man or woman is the jewel of their soul\\nSo Shikspea said, and he was right, I think, upon the\\nwhole.\\nBut thou, oh Slaukenbergius I ask thee in his place*\\nIs not a handsome nose in all the jewel of the face\\n5\\n4-\\nMessenger. There, Sir, those are the lines. Will\\nthey do. Sir\\nEd. Oh certainly. The case of Mr. Small-\\nclothes is one of real distress, and he shall have\\na hearing. Just say to him that he had better\\nsubmit to a Taliacotian operation, and have\\na new nose manufactured immediately. One of\\nmy advertisers will give him a new proboscis, or", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 233\\nagree to have his own pulled, if he fails. He will\\nenter into a bond that it shall smell, blow and\\nlook as well as any born nose in the world.\\nMessenger. Thank you, Sir, I ll certainly tell\\nhim.\\nDevil. Here s the first number of a new lite-\\nrary paper, Sir, which Mr. Folio, the bookseller,\\nwishes you to notice at full length.\\nEd. The plague on him Does he want an-\\nother puff so soon as this What is this new lit-\\nerary bantling\\nDevil. It is called the Town Pump Magazine\\nand Corkscrew Advertiser, edited by Messrs.\\nTomtit, Thingumbob St Co.\\nEd, Well, the whole concern be but no\\nmatter. Take my scale of prices to Mr. Folio at\\nonce, and ask him, for the hundreth time, to give\\nit a conspicuous place in his counting room. Do\\nyou understand\\nDevil. Yes, Sir.\\nEd. But first read it over, and let me see if I\\nhave any alteration to make.\\n{Devil reads.)\\n1. For one general puff, merely recommend-\\ning the Town Pump Magazine, and Corkscrew\\nAdvertiser, or the Pumkin Vine Bugle, and their\\nkindred prints, without mentioning the name of the\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00944.", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "234 THE PLUME.\\ni\\nEditors, or enlarging upon their peculiar qualifica-\\ntions, .C three dollars in advance, and the\\ndifference of exchange.\\n2. For lumping the aforesaid editors together,\\nand stating they are all clever fellows one dollar\\nadditional.\\n3. For stating that they are individually very\\nclever fellows, two dollars additional. Very clev-\\ner f^eWows indeed three dollars additional.\\n4. For stating that Messrs. Tomtit, Thingum-\\nbob Co, c., preside over their Magazines with\\ndistinguished ability four dollars additional.\\nIf unequalled ability five dollars additional.\\n5. hat their style might be mistaken for that\\nof Addison or Irving, six dollars additional.\\n6. That the Town Pump Magazine and Cork-\\nscrew Advertiser have each five thousand subscri-\\nbers, which are continually increasing, ten dollars\\nadditional. Ten thousand subscribers, twenty\\ndollars, and fifteen thousand subscribers thirty dol-\\nlars, additional.\\n7. That Messrs, Tomtit, Thingumbob Co.\\nare fully adequate to the task of making the\\nmost elegant miscellany in this country or Great\\nBritain, thirty-five dollars additional.\\n8. That the Town Pump Magazine, Corkscrew\\nAdvertiser, c. would die, if under the auspices of\\nany other than those distinguished literati, Tomtit,\\nThingumbob Co. forty dollars additional.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 235\\nEd. There, that will do, as it is. Just take it\\nto Mr. Folio, with my compliments, and ask him to\\nmake Mr. Tomtit, Thingumbob Co. acquainted\\nwith its contents, before their new bantling dies.\\nScud Now, by Apollo I ll walk out and see if\\nI can catch a breath of fresh air Here it comes\\nagain. Drizzle drizzle drizzle (Exit with\\numbrella.)\\nReader! I do assure you there is nothing like your\\ntrue blue dog-day weather to make an editor wasp-\\nish, when he is beset by visitors, copy-devils and the\\ninnumerable little annoyances, incident to his call-\\ning. It is so cold at one moment, and so warm at\\nthe next, that his ideas may almost be said to freeze\\nwhile they are thawing out, and his kindly nature\\nwithin to become infected with the general drear-\\niness which prevails without. While he is employed\\nupon his paper, suppose I introduce you to a con-\\nventicle of critics who are sitting in judgment upon\\nits merits.", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "236 THE PLUME.\\nScene II. A Literary tete-a-tete Half a dozen\\nwomen, of no particular age, sitting round a\\ntea-tahle discussing the articles in the newspa-\\nper. What the tea-pot ladies have to say of\\nthe editor. Immense loss of Patronage, etc.,\\netc.\\nI don t think Shikspeer the greatest man ever\\nlived, nor his co-trumpery (cotemporary?) Homer\\nnother, said Miss Laura Snakeroot, on the wrong\\nside of thirty.\\n0h no as my Lard Bacon says, I think our\\nJohn has written some things that you under-\\nstand I say it between ourselves, you know\\nthat Mr. Shickspur awould never have thought\\nof, said Miss Matilda Bouncer, sipping her fourth\\ncup of tea. Just look at his lines to the Venus\\nof the Medicine Chest (probably Venus de Medi-\\nci) Splendid\\nNow I think on t quoth Miss Diana\\nShagbark, who not having a tooth in her head,\\nwas violently suspected of a disposition to gum\\nevery body what do you think of the village\\npaper\\nAbominable quoth MissCorinna Straitfoot,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "EDITOKIAL COMFORTS. 237\\nwho was more than suspected of having sent some\\npoetical articles to the editor.\\nWill you believe it, said Miss Snakeroot, I\\nknow somebody that sent some very affecting\\nlines to a Dog to the editor and he said they\\nought to be only think all ought to be curtaiVd.^\\nThe vulgar crittur ejaculated Miss Boun-\\ncer, holding a handkerchief to her eyes what\\nstrange things editors are ain t they, Miss Scar-\\nlet\\n0 thertainly thertainly tharsey dogs said\\nMiss Angelina Lobelia Scarlet, who lisped a good\\ndeal.\\nThe village newspaper was brought in, and the\\ncompany began to apply the dissecting knife.\\nHe knows nothing about making a paper he\\ndon t have poetry enough I should like to pre-\\nside over the poetical apartment myself!\\nHe has too much politics and such stuff.\\nHe don t have any sentimental stories, nor\\nnothing of that sort that s taking.\\nNo Deaths and Marriages all advertise-\\nments.\\nMy grathious he never gets any foreign\\nnews such as murthers, horrid acthidents, rapeths\\nand thuch things.\\n1 heard Mrs. Thompson say the other day, said\\nMiss Shagbark, that Mrs. Corkscrew told Miss\\nFag how it was currently reported, and violently", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "238 THE PLUME.\\nsuspected that the editor meant Mr. Thompson,\\nwhen he said some folks like to play cards a little\\nand that such a scurrilous personality as that\\nwould lose him one subscriber any how.\\nAnd I heard Miss Blackbird say she had had\\nthirteen articles rejected, and was only waiting\\nfor a fourteenth injection, when she meant to write\\nfor another paper, quoth Miss Snakeroot. Such\\nthings is scandalous in an editor.\\nHe has given me three or four hints said\\nMiss Bouncer but I m determined not to take\\nthem. Now, the other day, he said, There are\\nsome amazing tonguey women in the world\\nI knew who he meant, the moment I set eyes on\\nhe paper.\\nHe gave me a pretty broad hint tother day,\\nhat I was no better than I should be, and said I\\nwas going it on the oyster figure a little too fast for\\nan honest woman, said Miss Blackbird. Til\\nmake him prove his word. Guess I am better\\nthan I should be.\\nHe thaid how he knew one woman who only\\nneed put on breeches to be a man, and that she\\nwas only a Loky Foky in petticoats. He thaid it a\\nhundred times gueth he won t thay it more than\\na hundreth and oneth time, lisped Miss Scarlet,\\nas red as a beefsteak.\\nOh, he s excessively vulgar to us literary\\nfolks And then he s always talking about the", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "EDITORIAL COMFORTS. 239\\nGreat Abolition Anti-slavery Bobolation and Col-\\nornization Society, plainly insinivating, that white\\nladies may take care of themselves, but he s for\\nblack ones the nigger! said Miss Douorh-\\nnut, who had just dropped in to say, how do you\\ndo.\\nIf an editor don t suit every body, whig and\\nLoky Foky, temperate and intemperate, mar-\\nried and single, literary and unliterary, black\\nand white he don t desarve to be patronized.\\nThem s my sentiments. Miss Scarlett, said Miss\\nBouncer.\\nWhy! yeth I think jeth tho editors no\\nbuthiness to have any pinion themselves that\\nith indithputable. They re made up of the opin-\\nions of other folks, and the moment they drop\\nihemy they are all gone goothes thath my\\nmind I\\nGoothes is profane, Miss Scarlet said a\\nlisping sister at her side Goothe is a wicked\\nword. Who d thought she d have thword (swore)\\nso.\\nThus did these tea-pot ladies fairly use up the\\neditor and bestow upon him their commiseration.\\nPoor fellow Let all editors take warning by his\\nfate for, by the goose-quill which he wields. Miss\\nLaura Snakeroot, Miss Matilda Bouncer, Miss\\nDiana Shagbark and eke Miss Angelina Lobelia\\nScarlet voted unanimously, on the spot, to withdraw", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "240 THE PLUME.\\ntheir patronage from said editor, in consideration of\\nhis personalities, his rejection of sundry articles\\nand his masculine bearing in the chair editorial.\\nLet them, 1 say, beware of his fate, for these la-\\ndies HAD CLUBBED TOGETHER AND SUBSCRIBED FOR\\nONE COPY OF HIS PAPER FOR ONE QUARTER. HoW hc\\ngot over this immense loss of patronage, I have\\nnever inquired, but I infer that he survived it,\\nas his paper makes its appearance regularly every\\nweek and promises very well.\\nTHE HEART THAT S TRUE.\\nThey may sing of the Avine that sparkles,\\nOf its red and golden hue\\nBe my song of the Love divine,\\nWhich glows in a heart that s true\\nWhat wine half so sparkling and mellow,\\nWhere the feast with joy is crowned,\\nAs the heart of a noble fellow,\\nWhen the festive hour comes round.\\nThey may sing of Love in a bower.\\nOf its bright and glowing flame\\nIt buds like a beautiful flower,\\nAnd it droopeth like the same.\\n4-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "ANSWER TO THE OLD ARM CHAIR. 241\\nBut give me the love of a brother,\\nAt home or in distant land,\\nWhose heart ever warms to another,\\nWho hath ever an open hand.\\nThey may tfell of the song that gushes\\nFrom the lips of a maiden fair\\nOf her burning wonds as she blushes,\\nAt hearing her lover s prayer.\\nBut give me the song of greeting,\\nWhen the festive hour comes round,\\nThe good fellow s welcome at meeting.\\nWhen the heart with mirth is crowned.\\nANSWER TO THE OLD ARM CUAIR.\\n[Addressed to a young lady after hearing her sing Eliza Cook s\\nbeautiful song, I love it, 1 love it, that old Arm Chair.\\nMUSIC BY BISSELL.\\nOh, sacred through life be that relic to thee.\\nThe old oaken chair, with its memories dear\\nIt hath seen the leaves of the ancestral tree,\\nOne by one, from its boughs fall stricken and sear.\\nOh, shelter it kindly in the household nook,\\n21", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "242 THE PLUME.\\nIn her vigils of love, a mother sat there,\\nAnd it hath ever a dear, familiar look,\\nLike the face of a friend, bless that Old Arm Chair\\nShe is gone she is gone But it stands there yet\\nThey have taken it not from the old fire-side\\nUndisturbed be it still, in the same nook set\\nLet it stand where it stood, when thy mother died.\\nOh, she loved it, she loved it, the old heir-loom.\\nAnd, though smileth no longer her sweet face there.\\nThe spirit of the loved and lost shall come.\\nEver to bless thee and guard the Old Arm Chair.\\nWhen the family sit at their daily meal.\\nIn its place is each chair, but that vacant one\\nYet holy around them her presence they feel,\\nAnd they seem still to hear her familiar tone.\\nSee the little ones turn from the sacred book.\\nAs speaketh the father her name in his prayer,\\nTo her favorite seat, for their mother s look\\nThey shall see her no more in the Old Arm Chair\\nOh sacred through life be that relic to thee,\\nThy mother s arm chair, with its memories dear.\\nForget not the day, when thou sat st on her knee.\\nAnd so sweetly she smiled, ere sorrow was near.\\nIt was there, it was there she reposed her head.\\nWhen she breathed for her loved ones her dying\\nprayer,\\nThen deem, though her form in the cold earth be laid.\\nThat her spirit still guardeth the Old Arm Chair.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0H^\\nA THANKSGIVING EDITORIAL.\\n243\\nA THANKSGIVING EDITORIAL.\\nIf there be one heart which beats more warmly\\nin the human breast than another, it is that of the\\nbrave American tar. Whether the many dan-\\ngers, which beset him on a perilous voyage, or\\nthe sense of loneliness which steals over him, while\\nrocked upon the mountain wave, induce him\\nto cherish and lock up, with almost sacred care, his\\naffections and the better feelings of his nature,\\nkeeping them untouched by the scenes of vice\\nand temptation of which he is so often a witness\\ncertain it is that the American sailor is more sen-\\nsitive to wrong, more grateful for the slightest\\nfavors, and more keenly touched. by misfortune,\\nthan almost any other individual in the world.\\nIt may be that his adventurous life teaching\\nhim, as it does, to cling to his shipmates, as to his\\nlittle world, his all strengthens his nobler and\\nkindlier feelinfrs, and warms them into livelier\\naction, than the more monotonous and peaceful life\\nof the landsman. As I was riding in the interior\\nin company with a friend, xi few years since, on the\\nday before our annual J hanksgiving, we observed\\nan individual, sitting by the way-side, with a tar-\\nik~", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "244 THE PLUME.\\npaulin in his hand, who was weeping like a child.\\nHis story was soon told. He had been long ab-\\nsent on a distant voyage, and having but a day or\\ntwo previous arrived in port, he started immediate-\\nly, on foot, for the home of his childhood, that he\\nmight enjoy the fireside delights and pleasures of\\nour Thanksgiving Festival among his relatives and\\nfriends. Upon his arrival at the endeared spot,\\ncradled among the Green Mountains, the light-\\nhearted tar, who was anticipating a few days of\\nunalloyed happiness with his kinsmen, to recom-\\npense him, in no small degree, for his years of toil\\nand peril upon the ocean, he received the painful\\nand stunning intelligence that they had all died\\nduring his absence at sea His parents, his sis-\\nters all were gone. Even the bright-eyed girl,\\nwhom he had left in her youthful bloom she to\\nwhom he was betrothed, and who year after year had\\nanxiously watched for his return slept beneath\\nthe cold sod of the valley f He retraced his steps,\\nand when we met him on his way back to the city,\\nhe was seated by the road-side, utterly overcome\\nby the magnitude of his misfortune and the poig-\\nnancy of his grief A feeling of loneliness had come\\nover the noble-hearted fellow, and touched a chord\\nin his bosom, which all the loneliness of the ocean,\\nin its most fearful power, had failed to reach. His\\nhome desolate, the cherished of his heart and the\\nloved of his youth, the sturdy oak and the lily", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "A THANKSGIVING EDITORIAL. 245\\nwhich bloomed in its shade gone, all gone for-\\never The sailor was shipwrecked on land, and\\nthe bold heart of one, who had withstood the beat-\\ning of the surge and the mountain wave, who had\\nbraved the perils of the deep in the midnight storm,\\nwithout the trembling of a nerve or the blink of an\\neye had now lost sight of the polar star of his des-\\ntiny, and bitterly wept at the desolation which had\\ncome upon him. Such a one has treasures within\\nhis bosom above all price, treasures which are the\\nfruit of a noble nature alone, and which can be\\nfound embedded in none other than an honest\\nheart. We endeavored to speak some words of\\nconsolation and cheerfulness to the brokei;-spirited\\ntar, but he would not be comforted. At least,\\nsaid I, you will accompany us home, and pass\\nThanksgiving with us. We will do all in our pow-\\ner to make your sojourn pleasant and agreeable.\\nYou will surely not refuse us No no, I can-\\nnot go with you. 1 am alone in the world, and have\\nno fireside now, and sisters and loved ones to gather\\naround it, to join in thanksgiving to God. But\\nyou will remember me in your prayers, when you\\nassemble at the family table, and for your kindness\\nthe last throb of the poor sailor s heart shall be for\\nyou and for yours. God bless you My friend\\nhaving placed a small sum of money in the pedes-\\ntrian s hand, he resumed his journey, while we\\n11^\\n4-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a24-\\n246\\nTHE PLUME.\\npassed on, to partake, at our own happy firesides, of\\nthe social and religious enjoyments which belong\\nto our New England Thanksgiving,*\\nThe little incident, which I have narrated in the text, is no fiction.\\nWhen originally published in a brief paragraph, it attracted considerable\\nattention, and gave rise to some fine verses from the pen of S. D. Patter-\\nson, Esq., at present editor of one of the literary journals in Philadel-\\nphia. But what gave me far more pleasure than this, was the circum-\\nstance, that the newspaper paragraph, in which I had embodied the inci-\\ndent, in its numerous wanderings caught the eye of the sailor himself,\\nwho immediately published a note in one of the Boston papers, in which\\nhe thus gracefully alludes to the matter.\\nPerhaps it would be gratifying to the feelings of the gentleman, who\\ngave the brief sketch of the sailor shipwrecked on land, to know, that\\nthe tar to whom he referred, though buffeted by the storms of the shore,\\n(which he found harder to contend with than those of the watery ele-\\nment) until shipwrecked on the breakers of misfortune, has at last found\\na harbor, and is safely anchored with a part of the fleet which he had left\\ncruising in happiness, and he would now return to the writer of the ar-\\nticle referred to, a sailor s thanks for his kindness, shown not only in\\nwords by which he endeavored to soothe the afflicted, but for nobly open-\\ning bis purse to a stntnger; and his memory shall cease to hold its em-\\npire, ere he forgets the shipwrecked sailor s friend.\\nI can sincerely say that I have rarely experiencet! mere true pleasure,\\nthan when I heard of the safe anchorage of the gallant sailor in port,\\nand I pray that he may neither never be shipwrecked on the sea, nor\\ncalled upon again to witness that which it is harder even to endure the\\nshipwreck of his hopes and happiness on the shore.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "A THANKSGIVn^G EDITORIAL. 247\\nThanksgiving! There is no word that falls from\\nthe lips, in moments of fervent devotion, or even\\nof thoughtless gaiety, which carries a sweeter\\ncharm to the heart of a son or daughter of New\\nEngland than this. The associations which clus-\\nter around it, the remembrances which it brings\\nup, the fire-side attachments which, it revives and\\nstrengthens, the visions of domestic happiness, cen-\\ntreing around that little world of the heart, home,\\nwhich it makes so palpable to the mind s eye, that\\nwe almost seem to live the scenes over again\\nand, above all, the feelings of gratitude which it\\nawakens are they not all of a character to hal-\\nlow it and endear it to every descendant of the\\npilgrims It is, indeed, the festival of the heart.\\nThere are other days, conspicuous in the calendar,\\nthe observance of which, as commemorating some\\ngreat event in our history, appeals to our patriot-\\nism and national pride. But this is a festival of a\\nreligious, rather than of a political or secular\\ncharacter, and, as such, appeals directly to the bet-\\nter feelings of our natures.\\nWhen the little band of exiles from their coun-\\ntry and the endearments of home, after a long ex-\\nposure to the perils of the deep, reached our\\ninhospitable shores, their first act was to pour out\\ntheir hearts in gratitude and thanksgiving to God,\\nand annually after, when the harvest was gathered\\nin, they met with their wives and little ones to", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "248 THE PLUME. I\\ncommemorate His goodness and to supplicate His\\nsmiles upon the infant colony. The little handful\\nof wanderers, whom the Mayflower rocked upon\\n^he ocean, and safely brought, under the guidance\\nof Providence, to the wintry coast of New England,\\nhas become a great nation. The acorn has grown\\ninto a sturdy oak, and the hearts of the children, as\\nthey sit beneath its branches, and reflect upon the\\nsufferings and privations of those who reared it,\\nswell with gratitude to Him who held them in the\\nhollow of His hand, who blessed them in the\\nstore-house and the field, and sending the warm\\nbreeze and sunshine of heaven upon the little\\ngerm which they planted, nursed it into the bud\\nand expanded the bud into the vigorous tree. They\\nannually go up to the House of God, to acknowl-\\nedge their dependence upon the Creator, and to\\nunite in thanksgiving for His blessings to them and\\nto their fathers. What spectacle more beautiful\\nthan this? What festival, in any other country,\\npartakes of the sacred and religious character,\\nwhich belongs to that of our New England Thanks-\\ngiving Is there not, in its annual observance, a\\npledge that the union of religion with good gov-\\nernment, which the pilgrims deemed of such\\nvital importance to the prosperity of the infant col-\\nony, and which by their practice they cemented\\nwill be preserved unbroken by their descendants,\\nwhile out political fabric endures", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "A THANKSGIVING EDITORIAL. 249\\nI have. spoken of Thanksgiving as the Festival\\nof the Heart. It is so, and its lecurrence, more\\nthan that of any other, awakens within it those\\ngentle affections, which, nurtured around the old\\nfamily hearth, impart so delightful a charm to the\\npleasures of domestic life. If there be no place\\nlike home, sweet home and how beautifully true\\nit is when is home sweeter or dearer than on\\nthis day The heart then does not give utterance\\nto its gratitude alone. It seeks communion and\\nfellowship, in its thanksgiving, with those around\\nwhom its tendrils have been entwined, and whom\\nthe ties of kindred and affection have, in other\\nyears, made the sharer, of its joys and its sorrows.\\nThe members of the family circle, who, in the\\ncourse of life, have become separated from each\\nother, are brought together again, and meet once\\nmore around the old fireside, to mingle their sym-\\npathies and good wishes, and tell over the scenes\\nand joys of by-gone years. What can be more\\ndelightful than these meetings at the old home-\\nstead We may miss from its accustomed place,\\nat the festive board, the form of some loved one,\\nwhom death has stricken from the little circle\\nthe eye which beamed so sweet a welcome upon us\\nat every return of this anniversary, and the smile\\nwhich gladdened every heart. Yes, we miss them\\nbut the virtues and excellencies of the departed are\\ncherished and recounted on this day of family sym-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "250 THE PLUME.\\npathies and congratulations, with a purer and\\nmore heart-felt satisfaction than ever. There\\nmay be others who, having become wanderers from\\nthe homestead, are unable to be present at the\\nannual family meeting. But, though absent in\\nbody, they are present in spirit. The heart s\\nattachment to home, at all times strong, now be-\\ncomes more active and vigorous than ever. Time\\nand distance rather strengthen than weaken it.\\nEach hurrying year, and each new remove from\\nthe spot of his birth, brightens the chain which binds\\nthe heart of the wanderer to it. The old familiar\\nfaces how they smile upon us, as on this day\\nour thoughts run back to the family circle which\\nwe have left The sympathies and associations,\\nengendered within it, cannot be transferred to oth-\\ner places. We quit the old mansion in youth or\\nmanhood, and form new associations which win up-\\non our hearts and influence our destinies in life.\\nThey are ever dear to us, and link themselves with\\nall our thoughts and feelings, but yet how unlike\\nthose which rush to the mind at the mention of our\\nThanksgiving Home The latter stand out by\\nthemselves, ever green, ever young, ever active,\\nrequiring but the sound of those talismanic words,\\nto bring them out in their brightest play and most\\ndelightful expansion. The son goes forth from his\\nfather s roof and forms new connexions in life.\\nAmid the active scenes which he encounters, and the", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "A THANKSGIVING EDITORIAL. 251\\nstruggles in which he mingles, to gain possession\\nof that splendid bauble, wealth, as it glistens be-\\nfore him and beckons him on one star beams\\never upon his eye, sending its golden rays upon\\nhis heart, and casting other lights into the shade.\\nIt is the star of his home And the dauo-hter, too,\\nwho leaves her parents and the loved ones who\\nhave grown up with her beneath their wing she\\nwho clings to him who hath wooed and won her\\nvirgin heart with his love she goes forth to a\\nnew home in a strange land. But at the mawic\\nsound of Thanksgiving how she yearns ao^ain\\nto meet the pleasant and happy faces, which\\nwere wont to welcome her in their midst with\\ntheir sunniest smiles Not the soft dalliance of\\nyoung love, in its brightest dreams or its tenderest\\ngushes not the primrose path of wedded bliss, nor\\nthe delights to which its new and sacred ties give\\nbirth can win her thoughts from the scenes of\\nher youth, or prevent theii wandering back to the\\nbright and sunny spots of her childhood.\\nYes Thanksgiving is peculiarly a Home Fes-\\ntival, and, as such, it is dearer to a son or daugh-\\nter of New England, than any other of whatever\\ncharacter in the wide world. Its annual return\\nis hailed with a pleasure and joy, which cannot be\\ndescribed or imagined by one, who has never been\\na participator in its fireside delights and its thou-\\nsand pleasant and holy associations. To the Lord\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^J*", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "252 THE PLUME.\\nof Millions, who turns the poor child of misfortune\\nfrom his door, and to the laboring man who sweats\\nfor daily bread for his little ones to the aris-\\ntocratic mother, who proudly sits in her splendid\\nmansion, with her little ones at a distance, and to\\nthe humble factory-girl who labors day and night for\\nthat which will make her poor parents comfortable\\nand happy, and who counts the hours which are to\\nintervene between the present and that which shall\\nwitness her departure to the old farmhouse\\nThanksgiving is one and the same a day of de-\\nlightful anticipation, and, in its almost hallowed\\npleasures, of more delightful realization. But,\\nperhaps I cannot better give utterance to my own\\nfeelings in regard to this Home Festival, than\\nby a brief recital in unpretending verse.\\nTHE NEAV ElVGIiANDER ABROAD AT THOUGHT\\nOF HIS THANKSGIVING HOME.\\nI love earth s bright and primrose paths, her lawns and\\nblooming trees,\\nThe warblers in the summer woods, the music in the\\nbreeze\\nBut dearer yet the happy hearth, the sounds that from it\\ncome\\nThe voices to my childhood dear, the voices of my\\nHOME\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "4-\\nA THANKSGIVING EDITORIAL. 253\\nWhat pleasant dreams at night will come with their enchant-\\ning hue\\nWhere stoop those angel forms to bless we wake and wish\\nthem true\\nBut sweeter and more gentle ones do not in visions come,\\nThan they who smile and welcome us around the\\nHEARTH AT HOME.\\nHow many happy faces flit before us in the crowd;\\nI catch their faintest whispers well, mid thousand voices\\nloud\\nA tie still binds my heart to theirs, when far away I roam.\\nBut oh I m bound by dearer ties to those I love at home.\\nThe weary frame may seek relief, in fairest climes of eaith,\\nBut one is dearer than they all the spot that gave us birth.\\nThe voices to my heart so dear, I hear where er I roam\\nHow swells my bosom at the sound, the magic sound of\\nhome\\nThe beauty of Italia s skies may win upon the soul.\\nThe sea in dread magnificence before the eye may roll\\nBut oh, while gazing on them all, a sweeter thought will come\\nThe beauty of the sky that bends, the stream 1 love at home.\\nAnd maidens, gay ard beautiful, on the sunny shores of\\nFrance\\nAnd Spain s proud daughters may have seemed like visions of\\nromance\\nBut dearer yet New England s hills her bright-eyed ones\\nmore fair\\nI see their well known forms arise my own sweet home is\\nthere", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "254\\nTHE PLUME.\\nThe father sits beside the hearth, his child upon his knee\\nAnd dearer yet than all the rest, my mother s smile 1 s\\nAnd sisters forms, so gentle, kind, upon the fancy come\\nOh, where are they so dear to us as those we love at home\\nOh tell me not of other climes, their maids with raven\\ncarls\\nGive me New England s mountains wild, her rosy-cheek d,\\ndear girls.\\nAnd tell me not of those away, so fair, where er I roam\\nMy own loved land is dearest far my own Thanksgiv-\\ning Home\\nSuch are the emotions and feelings which\\nThanksgiving awakens in the heart of a son or\\ndaughter of New England. It is a day of Thanks-\\ngiving to God and of pleasant communion with\\nkindred and with friends. It is a jubilee of the\\nheart, when its sentiments are kindled afresh, and\\ngather with renewed strength around the objects\\nof its love and its gratitude. Blessed as a people\\nand as individuals prospered as members of the\\nlittle family where our infancy was nurtured, and\\nas members of the great family of man let us\\nnever be unmindful of the Author of our blessings;\\nbut, year after year, on the recurrence of this glo-\\nrious old Pilgrim Festival, repair to the House of\\nGod. Having there united in songs of Thanks-\\ngiving and Praise to the Giver of all Good, let us\\ngather around the family board, mingle our sym-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "TO SYBIL. 255\\npathies, our joys, and our sorrows with each other,\\nand kindle anew those feelings of love, affection\\nand gratitude, which are the sweetest charms of\\ndomestic life, and which mark the day of our njeet-\\ning together around the old fire-side, as the\\nTHANKSGIVING OF THE HEART.\\nTO SYBIL.\\nAsk st thou a verse What can I say\\nBetittin^ one so bright and gay\\nAy, tell me, Lady, what shall be\\nThe tribute of my muse to thee\\nShall I recount thy graces rare,\\nAnd say thou art divinely fair\\nThat lilies with the rose entwine\\nTo nestle in those cheeks of thine.\\nThat Heaven s own stars together vie\\nTo lend their lustre to thine eye.\\nAnd beam into its glances bright\\nSome of their own celestial light\\nThat blushes flutter in thy fkce,\\nLike rose-tints melting on a vase\\nThat, like two cherries on one stem.\\nWhen the bright dew hath moistened them.", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "256 THE PLUME.\\nAre thy lips that thy teeth are pearls,\\nBefitting only sweet-lipp d girls,\\nSet in rich rubies that thy words\\nAre musical as notes of birds\\nThine eye as glowing as the morn,\\nWhen its soft-pencilled light is born,\\nThat the witching sweetness of thy smile\\nWould win a sinner from his guile.\\nAnd thy clustering ringlets grace\\nA Hebe s brow, a Juno s face,\\nThat, buoyant as the light gazelle\\nThy step, or Eve s before she fell,\\nThou seem st a wanderer from the skies,\\nA Peri strayed from Paradise\\nShall thus I paint tliee Shall this be\\nThe tribute of my muse to thee\\nNay, Lady, I would rather pray\\nNo cloud may ever dim thy way.\\nThat life s gay flowers for thee may bloom,\\nFrom tinted urns breathe sweet perfume,\\nAnd, bright as sparkling dew-drops, be\\nThe sky which bendeth over thee\\nThy charms all beautiful thou art\\nBe but reflections from thy heart.\\nThat virtue, with her hand divine,\\nMay rear thee as a heavenly vine,\\nAnd her celestial mantle fling\\nAround thee, in thy blossoming.\\nBidding her shining graces be\\nThe holy guardians of thee", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 257\\nThat Love along- thy path may weave\\nAll of enchantment it can give,\\nAnd its sweet vision, brig-htest dream,\\nLady, be realized supreme.\\nOh, when thy summer sands are run,\\nThy life s unquiet mission done.\\nAn angel soaring to the sky,\\nBe thou a blissful bride on high\\nTHE ICE -KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW.\\nThe first strain of the ^olian harp summoned\\nthe Queen of the Spring to the earth, to decide\\nthe contest between the rival monarchs, the Ice-\\nKing and the King of the Thaw. Folding her\\ndrapery of silver clouds ji^round her, she sailed\\nwith the speed of the wind over hill and plain, in\\nsearch of a spot upon which to alight and resume\\nher empire below. As she was borne hither and\\nthither by the April breezes, looking down upon\\nthe outstretched earth, just awakening from its\\nwinter sleep, she descried a green spot upon the", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "4-\\n258 THE PLUME.\\nmargin of a beautiful stream, which lay, like a sil-\\nver thread, flashing and sparkling in the sunlight.\\nQuick as thought she stood upon the river s brink\\nand laved her tresses in its dancing waters. A\\ngiant elm stretched out its branches above her,\\nand as she gazed upwards to its naked limbs, the\\nlittle buds put forth, and where she trod, the\\nviolet and daffodil sprang into life and beauty.\\nPlucking from the turf, at the foot of the old elm,\\na wild flower which had just peeped from the sod,\\nand opened its purple leaves to the sun, she held it\\naloft in her hand. This, said she, be the prize\\nof the successful monarch It shall wither on the\\nbrow of the Ice-King, or bloom upon that of his\\nrival of the Thaw\\nOn came the rival monarchs, and warm was the\\nstruggle between them for dominion over the land\\nand the sea. For six long months had the Thaw-\\nKing been a prisoner of the Ice-King, bound hand\\nand foot in the cold manacles of his relentless\\nfoe. And for six months longer might he have re-\\nmained in chains, had not a straggling sunbeam\\nfrom the crown of the Thaw-King, darted through\\nthe wall of his prison house, and whispered him of\\nrelease. Another and yet another golden ray stole\\nin, warmed the heart of the royal prisoner and il-\\nlumined the walls of his dungeon. Quick as light,\\nhis manacles snapped asunder and dissolved.\\nThe thick walls of his prison crumbled and melted", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 259\\naway into thin transparencies, rich and beautiful as\\nthe tints of the rainbow. Away away sped the\\nThaw-King on the pinions of the sweet south-west,\\nas gay and blithsome as a bird, at his escape from\\nthe dominions of the Ice-King. He alighted on\\nthe margin of the beautiful stream, where the\\nQueen of the Spring, enthroned beneath the elm,\\nheld aloft the shrinking violet as the prize for the\\nconqueror. He was about bidding its half impris-\\noned waters to throw off their fetters and leap for\\njoy, when he felt the cold breath of the Ice-King,\\nwho had left his palace upon the mountain-top to\\npursue and recapture the flying prisoner. On\\non canje the Ice-King, brandishing his glittering\\nsceptre and preparing to bind the King of the\\nThaw in more enduring chains. And now grew\\nfiercer the struggle for mastery between the mighty\\npotentates. The Ice-Monarch, with a glittering\\ntiara upon his brow, darted his sharp arrows at\\nhis adversary, and stationed his forces beneath\\nevery blade of grass, every twig, and beneath the\\neaves of every roof around. Not a shrub was\\nthere, nor a tree, nor a bush, nor a hedge which\\ndid not bristle with the burnished armor and pointed\\nweapons of the Ice-King s warriors. Thick\\nand fast sped their arrows about the Thaw-\\nKing, but they became pointless ere they struck\\nhim. Manfully and well did he battle it to the\\nlast. Gathering his dazzling and flowing robes", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "260 THE PLUME.\\naround him and with his quiver of sunbeams at his\\nback, he marched to the encounter, and darted his\\narrows of flame ao^ainst the helmet of his shivering\\nand retreating adversary. And, lo I the magical\\nchange The bright sceptre of the Ice-King melt-\\ned in his grasp, his shield shivered and fell, his\\ncrown broke into a thousand fragments, and his\\narmor rattled like hail-stones upon the ground.\\nStripped of the insignia of royalty, he retreated\\nwith his warriors to a distance upon the pinnacle\\nof a snow-crowned rock, and bade defiance to the\\nKino; of the Thaw. Then, raising his bugle to his\\nlips, he sounded a blast, to which came a cheerful\\nand merry response from the King of the Thaw.\\nTHE ROYAIi DUET.\\nIce-King.\\nTho Ice King 13 come with his chilly breath,\\nAnd he winds his horn over hill and dale,\\nClosing each beautiful thing in death.\\nAnd hushing the note of the Autumn gale.\\nIlls icy sceptre he rears in the woods,\\nAnd blight it glistens o er mountain and plain\\nThaw-King.\\nBut, ah, ha it will fall and the solitudes\\nIn their green robes will smile, will smile again\\nAh, yes and again the sweet eglantine", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 261\\nWith its blushing garlands will clasp the trees,\\nThe oriole plucking his breast be seen,\\nAs his feathers of gold sail down the breeze.\\nIce King.\\nO, the Ice-King locks up the merry rills,\\nAnd the brooks which danced on their joyous way,\\nLeaping so gladly from a thousand hills\\nHow he dashes aside their silver spray\\nThe light shrub and furze that fringed their brink.\\nHave withered away and sealed is the wave\\nThaw-Ktivg.\\nWhere the plover and wild-deer came to drink,\\nBut, ah, ha they will rise from their icy grave,\\nAnd again, again will the lily s bell\\nBloom on the lawn and from their wintry sleep\\nThe delicate furze and shrub, by the spell\\nOf Spring, into a joyous life will leap\\nIce-King.\\nThe Ice King hath hushed the hymn and the sorg\\nOf the birds which sang from the old elm tree.\\nAnd no more is heard tht:re all the day long\\nThe music that burst forth so merrily.\\nHa, ha I he is gone The Ice King s wail\\nHath driven him away from wood and plain", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "262 THE PLUME.\\nThaw-King.\\nBut he knows the sound of the vernal gale,\\nAnd soon he will come^ he will come again.\\nAll crownleas the Ice-King In the meadows green\\nSoon boblink will sing, and hum the wild-bee\\nTwitter the swallow the barn out and in,\\nAnd the yellow bird hop on the willow tree.\\nAh, ha, soon again will the beautiful flowers\\nO er hill and o er plain bright peeping be seen.\\nAnd earth, as the spring-harp sounds through her bowers.\\nWill dolfher white robe for a mantle of green.\\nFarther and farther retreated the Ice-King, as\\nhe sounded his retreat, until he drew up his war-\\nriors within his mountain fortress. Dimmer and\\ndimmer became their forms to the eye of the King\\nof the Thaw, as his last notes, niingling with the\\nsoft music of the ^olian harp, died away in the\\ndistance. Then again and for the last time the\\nIce-King placed his bugle to his skeleton lips, and\\nsounding one shrill and piercing blast, announced\\nhis empire at an end. Fainter and fainter came\\nits notes to the ear of the Thaw-King. Ere their\\nlast cadence had died away upon the vernal air, the\\nIce-King and his warriors, stricken by a sunbeam,\\nhad died with it, and from that moment the dominion\\nof the King of the Thaw was undisputed and su-\\npreme.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 263\\nThe Queen of the Spring stepped from her vel-\\nvet throne and planted a violet upon the brow of\\nthe King of the Thaw\\nThis be thine 1 said she, Let it bloom up-\\non every hill-side, in every valley, and by every\\nstream whose fetters you have broken, whose em-\\npire you have won, and whose glad music shall\\nwelcome you on.\\nLight as the gossamer, the Queen of the Spring\\nfolded her robes around her blushinjr form, and\\nfloated aloft into the mild regions of the upper\\nsky.\\nThe King of the Thaw stood on the margin of\\nthe beautiful stream, and, as he raised his sceptre\\naloft, the waters broke from their confinement,\\nand rushed over rock and waterfall, dashing and\\nfoaming in their wild career. Springing upon an\\nice throne, he floated down the river on and on\\ntill, arrived at a green strip of land jutting into\\nthe stream, he stepped ashore, and his throne\\nsunk into its depths and was no more. Like a\\nfawn he dashed over the fields and through the\\nforests. The spring birds greeted him, as he drew\\nnear their coverts, with their sweetest songs. The\\ngrass started into life, as if by magic, and put on its\\nbrif -htest verdure, to welcome him onward. The\\nwithered shrubs burst forth into loveliness and\\nbeauty, as he approached, and under the enchant-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "264 THE PLUME.\\nment of his breath, the trees arrayed themselves\\nin their coronals of leaves and fragrant blossoms.\\nThe daisy and lily bloomed in his track, and the\\nfountains on the hill-side gushed up, where he\\npassed, and went on their way, laughing and sing-\\ning and babbling the praise of the Thaw-King.\\nEvery living thing, after months of suspended\\nanimation, resumed its wonted activity and energy.\\nThe perpetual song of Nature, reverberating from\\nhill and dale and from stream to stream, was re-\\nsume, KEsuME, RESUME And lo how sudden and\\nmagical the general resumption, as the King of\\nthe Thaw gave out the vivifying word. May\\nresumed her velvet sandal shoon, her green\\nslippers and her gorgeous drapery of blushing\\nflowers. Again she went forth with her step of\\npride, her mien of surpassing loveliness and beau-\\nty, walking abroad like a Queen with her lilied\\nscarf and her blossoming wreath. The streams\\nand brooks resume their merry dance and their\\norlad music the birds their old familiar sonors\\nand their gay plumage. The swallow resumes his\\ntwittering, the bee his hum, the flower, which he\\nsips, its crimson hue and its fragrance, and the at-\\nmosphere its genial warmth and balmy influences,\\nfor joy that the Thaw-King is come\\nHark in what a merry concert the birds and\\nlivino- things mingle their voices, as they feel the\\nwarm breath of the King of the Thaw, as he passes", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 265\\ntheir coverts and hiding-places. Their unwritten\\nmusic is heard from the air and among the reeds\\nof every dancing stream. There sits an old bull-\\nfrog upon the margin of a brook, with one leg in\\nthe water by way of a cooler. How he thrums\\naway upon that bass-viol of his\\nThUNG THUNG THONG THUNG THONG\\nPOUT\\nAnd that little frogess opposite plays the treble\\nto a charm, without scarcely opening her mouth.\\nListen\\nTe-WEET TE-WEET HIKR-IRR-RR HlRR-IRR-\\nRR Te-weet Gosu\\nDown she dashes into the water her grent\\ntoe awfully mangled by a stone from some truan^\\nboy.\\nThen, that green-eyed monster the old lender\\nof the orchestra, dressed in yellow breeches, and\\na white sash around him hear him tune his viol\\nPaddy got-droonk Paddy got-droonk got-\\nDROONK OONK UNK GoSH SkY\\nAnd down he goes to wet his whistle and pre-\\npare for a new concert.\\nHa if there is not our old pet, Robert Lincoln\\nEsq, alighting on the top of the very apple-tree\\nwhere I have ^een him for a dozen years. Ah\\n23", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "266\\nTHE PLUME.\\nyou feathered voluptuary you dandy at noon\\nand alderman at night welcome, old fellow\\nWearing the same black swallow-tail, the same\\nyellow vest and airy tights By our lady, but he\\nis a spruce little gentleman, and, with his gaudy\\nepaulettes, must be the chief musician in the\\nwinged regiment. Hear him Hear him\\nBoBLTNK BOBLINK STINGY STINGY Go-AND-\\nSEE Miss Philesy Philesy. Oorioo Bobunk\\nTOODELEE SWEET SWEET PhILESY She lL\\nDIE SOON Quick Sneeziominee\\nPshaw Pshaw chuck trills the thrasher.\\nMiEU MiEu MiEu squeaks the cat-bird.\\nWhippoorwill ^vhip who-whip who whip\\nPOOR Will begins another in a melancholy\\nvoice.\\nKaty did Kate, Katy did. Katy did\\nbreathes an insect.\\nI ll come and see, I will, sings the yellow bird.\\nOoRIOO ToODELEE BOBLINK LINK SkiES\\nbright, d ye SEE. Spring s here hitch-sky\\nBeen on a spree Oorioo Toodelee sweet\\nsweet whiskee Toodylink sweet sweet\\nAnd so sing they all their unwritten music, with-\\nout a discordant note, unless perhaps from some\\nhoarse, unsoaked bull-frog, who has caught a\\nwheezing cold from lying too long upon the damp\\nground. And see that lean mare endeavoring to\\nhJs-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 267\\njoin in the general chorus, shaking her sides and\\ngiving three or four salutatory hors^-laughs in\\nhonor of the advent of the Boblink and the glorious\\nKing of the Thaw\\nBoblink Boblink Oorioo\\nThere he goes again with his joUj music Stay\\nvoluptuous mad-cap Let me give thee a\\nparting song, ere I leave thee, and thou seekest\\nthe rice fields of the South. I will take down thy\\nwords, in short hand, as I listen to thee, and defy the\\nmost critical composer, to say that they are not\\nthe exact notes which thou art warbling at this\\nmoment. Stay Bob Ay, I have it\\nTHE BOBIilKK.\\nOh merry and gay is the Boblink s lay,\\nWhen he waibleih in the Spring,\\nAnd at early morn, o er the field and lawn,\\nWith his notes so clear and so full of cheer.\\nHe poiseth upon his wing.\\nSong. Oorioo, boblink Sing, sing, cheer! cheer\\nSweet, sweet and bright the earth and sky\\nToodelee boblink wink, wink, wink\\nPhilesy You re ail in my eye", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "268 THE PLUME.\\nAnd hrs jovial tune in the rosy June,\\nHow blithe he singeth away\\nAs with gaudy sash, liUe a golden flash.\\nAnd his new black coat, he around doth strut.\\nWhen he lights on the fragrant hay.\\nSong. Oorioo, boblink sing sing cheer cheer\\nSweet is the hay, sweet, sweet to me\\nSkies blight but look there I Philesy\\nClear clear the cat steals up the tree\\nOh, he s a merry bird, when his laugh is heard\\nIn the corn and waving rye\\nHe escheweth the woods where the night-owl broods.\\nBut laugheth away in the broad bright day,\\nTill his music fills the sky.\\nSong. Boblink, sing, sing, sweet Philesy\\nSkies bright and now s the time, d ye see\\nToodeloo, what a witch, swpet, sweet\\nBoblink link link yourself to me J\\nOh, he s merry and queer and charming to hear,\\nWhen he lights among the reeds.\\nAnd strutteth so gay as he flutters away.\\nAnd the notes rolleih out from his tiny throat.\\nAs up and sidelong he speed he speeds.\\nSong. Oorioo Toodelee I boblink", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "THE ICE-KING AND THE KING OF THE THAW. 269\\nBoblink, come. Philesy sweet, d ye hear\\nSing sing but hark fly, fly! Q,uick quick\\nSee I where lurketh the fowler near\\nBob Lincoln so gay, ever chatter away,\\nFor I love thy comic look\\nAnd in May or in June, I welcome thy tune.\\nAs thou gaily doth sing and sport on thy -wing.\\nO er the field and reedy brook.\\nSong. Toodelee, oh, cheerily sing\\nThou hasi for thy mate sweet Philesy.\\nCheer, cheer, skies bright, boblink, link, link\\nShe siaseth and flies with thee.\\nHail Hail to thee potent King of the Thaw\\nMay flowers bloom before thee, as thou passest,\\nand health, vigor, life and energy follow in thy\\ntrack over the land and the sea\\n23*", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "270 THE PLUME.\\nTO ONE AVnO CANNOT UNDERSTAND IT.\\nEclipsed And is it so, thy mental light\\nAnd can no sovereign art its flame re-lume\\nDispel the darkness which, like brooding night,\\nO erspread thy hopes, as they began to bloom\\nOh I playmate of my boyhood s once-loved home\\nThou can st not know what anguish fills my heart I\\nWhat shadows o er its day-dream visions come,\\nAt thought of what thou wast what now thou art.\\nThy aims, thy hopes, thy favorite books were mine\\nLoving what thou did st love, our hearts were one\\nWe walked together, and, my arm in thine.\\nBasked in the splendor of thy rising sun.\\nThine intellect was of a noble mould.\\nThy heart all love, its treasures freely given,\\n(Far richer than Golconda s mines of gold\\nThe humblest e en who breathes the air of heaven.\\nThy pen was gifted with a wondrous skill\\nBright Eloquence had steeped it in her dews,\\nAnd thy mind s coinage, glowing at thy will.\\nSeemed the creation of a lofty Muse.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "TO ONE WHO CANNOT UNDERSTAND IT. 271\\nj Thou did st preach Christ, and, with a Christian s soul,\\nGive to the world the Gospel s truths sublime,\\nLifting men s thoughts beyond earth s narrow goal,\\nFar upward to Eternity from Time.\\nLiving, yet dead, unknowing, not unknown\\nI cannot meet thee in thy dismal cell,\\nAnd mark thy mind in ruins, which my own\\nCalls back to hours when all with thee was well.\\nOh spare me this I would not see thy wreck\\nThy reason shattered on her lordly throne.\\nLike some brave bark, on whose once glorious deck\\nLies the tall mast, her spars and rudder gone.\\nMy poor, heart-broken one Thou art the same\\nTo me as erst. I cannot thee forget\\nThou hast my love, my prayers, my humble name\\nShould all forsake, thou art my brother yet\\nLINES.\\nOh, what is woman in this world,\\nBut a sweet angel from on high,\\nWho, with her glorious pinions furl d,\\nHovers around us, ever nigh", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "272 THE PLUME.\\nWhat though, while with us, she appears\\nIn sunshine or the cloud it brings\\nHer ministry of smiles and tears\\nIs but the fanning of her wings.\\nHer tones celestial are the voice.\\nWhich God to erring man has given,\\nTo bless him and to make his choice\\nThe bliss of her own home, in heaven.\\nCOME, BROTHERS, COME!\\nCome, brothers, come The day is gone\\nEve s shadows darken o er us\\nBut Friendship s work is yet undone.\\nBright burns her torch before us.\\nCome, brothers, come How dear the night\\nNo clouds around us gather\\nWhere Love s pure flame is glowing bright,\\nOh, all is pleasant weather.\\nCome, brothers, come\\nCome, brothers, come When hearts are one,\\nThe hours are ever dearest\\nFor every act of goodness done\\nTo heaven then brings us nearest!", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "A GLIMPSE OF THE SWEET-NAMED. 273\\nCorne, brothers, come Love mounts his throne\\nThe heart is ever ligfhtest,\\nWhen he pats all its jewels on,\\nAnd Charity s the brightest.\\nCome, brothers, come\\nCome, brothers, come The clay is past,\\nNijjht s shadows gather round us\\nTruth, Love, and Friendship, strong and fast,\\nIn brotherhood have bound us.\\nCome brothers, come The lodge-room brings\\nIts holy rites before us\\nTruth woos us to her chrystal springs,\\nHeaven s light is streaming o er us\\nCome, brothers, corne\\nA GLIMPSE OF THE S W EE T- N A M E D.\\nPART I.\\nOh, breathe her name softly, as Love sighs in his bower\\nThough I heard it but oncis, yet how sweet to mine ear\\nAnd it played o er my heart as the breeze o er the tlower\\nWhere its treasures it stole, it will still linger near.\\nThese words were written Or the Montezuma Lod^e of Odd Fel-\\nlows in Boston,as a suhstitute for tiiose usuhIIv sung at the openin of the\\nmeetings,Hnd have been very generally adopted by ether Lodges in the city.", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "4^-\\n274\\nTHE PLUME.\\nI saw her once only, I but once heard her name\\nYet she floats like an angel around and above me\\nOh, her heart I would prize more then visions of Fame,\\nHad I such an angel to watch o er and love me.\\nOh, breathe her name softly, as the lute breathes of love,\\nThe Graces can paint me no creature more fair,\\nThan that her name conjures, nor the white turtle-dove,\\nAs her song soothes the heart, wake more innocence\\nthere.\\nThat face so celestial how can I forget it\\nThat eye, mild and lustrous, so enchantingly bright\\nThat lip like a cherry, when the dew-drop hath wet it\\nSure the vision was that of an angel of light\\nThat smile which like sunshine is ever there beaming\\nThose tresses from out which bewitchingly peeps\\nA glance so angelic, it seems but the gleaming\\nOf the love which her heart in its purity keeps\\nThen breathe her name softly And if ever again\\nThat sweet vision I see, I will call it divine\\nI will bless it as her s who, in joy or in pain.\\nWould give her own heart to share either with mine", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "DITTO SEEN THROUGH GLASSES. 275\\nDITTO SEEN THROUGH GLASSES.\\nPART II.\\nOh, breathe her name hoarsely, for sure she is frightful\\nThough I saw her but once, yet I took special care\\nTo scan her more closely (how very delightful !j\\nAnd see what she s made of, from her shoes to her hair.\\nI saw her once only, I but once heard her name\\nThen her tresses were false, (as I hope to be saved\\nWhile some hair of her own, prized like visions of Fame,\\nGrew just where my own does, when I go to be shaved.\\nOh, take her oif quickly She tries to be graceful\\nBut what nature denies us no art can supply\\nThe rouge lies so thickly (Good Lord what a face full\\nHer bloom might be bottled and so sold off for dye.\\nThat face which so haunts me how can I forget it\\nAnd that eye all but green with its lashes so grey\\nThat lip and that tooth, too, (what dentist did set it\\nSure the vision is that of pray what shall I say\\nThat bustle so big there, which swells up behind her\\nThat foot elephantic, that hole in her stocking", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "276 THK PLUME.\\nThat voice like an owl s, when you happen to find her\\nAt piano, guitar oh, what is more shocking\\nThen take her off quickly And if ever again\\nSuch a vision I see. I ll call myself stupid,\\nIf I swear not tis her, who in joy or in pain,\\nA touch of the night-mare would give even Cupid.\\nYes, breathe that name hoarsely, once so sweet to mine\\near\\nI recall what I sung when T thought her divine\\nHer heart it can never lucky, Julia, my dear,\\nI thought of my glasses play the devil with mine\\nASCUTNET.\\nI love \\\\ipf ti thy summit high.\\nBald Hill I to mount in summer s hour.\\nWhen from between the mossy rncks\\nPeeps forth young Junv s first blushing flower.\\nThe gnarled oaks like giants stand,\\nAnd stTf-tch their green pnlins high above,\\nAs tbev would ffreel the swan-like clouds,\\nLike spu-its from their homes of love.\\n--4-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "ASCUTNEY. 277\\nHow sweet to gaze abroad, and see\\nThe lovely landscape stretching- far,\\nThe verdant fields, the summer slopes,\\nAnd, like a diamond-set tiar.\\nThe streamlets sparkle in the sun,\\nAnd leap along thy broad domain,\\nWhile Summer, in her gorgeous robes,\\nHer garland weaves on hill and plain.\\nBut, wild, romantic Hill still more\\nI love to mount thy craggy side,\\nWhen Autumn, with his golden rod,\\nIs marching on with step of pride.\\nWhat bright, enchanting visions burst\\nIn all their beauty on the eye,\\nAs from thy summit far it roves\\nO er brilliant stream and plain and sky.\\nThe golden grain is nodding now\\nUpon the verdant field and hill,\\nThe yellow sheaves are piled around.\\nWhere toil the merry reapers still.\\nThe purple grapes along the wall.\\nAnd up the gnarl d and twisted tree\\nHang gracefully, as folds the vine\\nWhere hived and humm d the summer bee.\\nAnd on the foliage up thy sides,\\nSweet Hill what varied tints are seen\\nThe yellow birch, the maple red.\\nThe pine forever fringed with green\\n24", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "278 THE PLUME.\\nAnd blushing hues are lavished there,\\nAs Autumn seeks thy silent wood,\\nTo spread his tinted glories forth,\\nAnd paint thy haunts of solitude.\\nAnd river, wild and beautiful!\\nConnecticut how bright thy stream.\\nAs from this height I see thee glide,\\nLike some sweet vision in a dream.\\nPeace hovers o er thy shor es, and fair\\nThy smiling villages are seen\\nEach with its church, its mansions white,\\nIts school-house with its plat of green.\\nAnd oft upon thy craggy height,\\nWild Hill in summer s sultry hours\\nI ll mount, or yet while Autumn sports\\nHis golden locks within thy bowers.\\nThy bold, romantic scenes have touched\\nA solemn chord within my breast,\\nAnd turned my thoughts from thee, to Him\\nWho placed his signet on thy crest.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "A VERY CLEVER FELLOW, BUT 279\\nA VERY CLEVER FELLOW, BUT\\nIf there be one form of expression in our collo-\\nquial intercourse, that I detest more heartily than\\nanother, it is that which stands at the head of this\\nchapter. It is a stab inflicted under the guise of\\nfriendship. Just as the cup is raised to your lips,\\nit is dashed aside by that crabbed and insignificant\\nmonosyllable hut. The word has no particular\\nmeaning attached to it it signifies any thing,\\nevery thing or nothing, as the case may be. Every\\none forms his opinion of another s character either\\nfrom report or observation, and, as if the feeling were\\nimplanted in his nature that perfect excellence in\\nthis world is unattainable, and he were afraid,\\nwhen enquiry is made, to say any thing prejudi-\\ncial to his friend, he eases his conscience off with\\nthis 6utt-end sort of a sentence, which sometimes\\nstuns and knocks down the hearer, as if he had\\nreceived a blow from a club. In a word, this ab-\\nrupt monosyllable is often thrust into one s ear\\nwhen he least expects it, and strikes him like a\\nclap of artificial thunder,\\nGood morning, neighbor Stokes Well, our\\nfriend Job, they say, has been quite lucky. He s\\nsold his land and made a cool thousand.\\nAh! well! who would have thought it", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "280 THE PLUME.\\nNeighbor Job is certainly one of the best men in\\nthe world. He deserves to be lucky. Neighbor\\nJob knows which side his bread is buttered in\\nshort neighbor Job is\\nIs what\\nNeighbor Job\\nNeighbor Job is neighbor Job. You are as\\nsmart as a steel-trap this morning, Mr. Stokes\\nWhat I was going to say was, that neighbor\\nJob is a very clever fellow but\\nBut what, Mr. Stokes\\nOh nothing in particular that I know of\\nbut\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nBut what, Mr. Stokes\\nOh, you know people will have their opinion\\nof others. Neighbor Job is one of the very finest\\nfellows in the whole world, but\\nBut what, neighbor Stokes\\nBut but but said he in a half hesitating\\nmanner. Mr. Stokes, being followed up, was driv-\\nen into a corner. Having learned of neighbor\\nJob s good fortune that morning, he had spoken of\\nhim to twenty or thirty individuals, always wind-\\ning off his discourse with this but. He, also, often\\naccompanied his insinuations with a knowing wink\\nof the eye or nod of the head, and the consequence\\nwas that many, not asking an explanation of his\\nbut, began to think neighbor Job was a hard\\ndrinker a cheat a pickpocket, or something", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "A VERY CLEVER FELLOW, BUT 2S1\\nworse than either. Envy at Job s good fortune\\nwas at the bottom of the whole matter.\\nWell, Mrs. Slop, they say Isabel Green is\\ngoing to be married. She will make a fine wife.\\nGoing to be married did you say do tell,\\nsaid Mrs. Slop, to be sure she not having heard\\nthe news before.\\nYes so they say She s a fine girl, Mrs.\\nSlop!\\nOh yes Isabel is one of the finest girls I\\nknow of so pleasant and agreeable and good\\nnatured She s a fine girl but\\nWell what fault have you to find with her\\nnow, Mrs. Slop. Yes! indeed she is an admirable\\ngirl!\\nThe finest girl in the world, but Oh she s\\na grand girl but and Mrs. Slop nods and\\nwinks.\\nAny thing particular Do let me hear, Mrs.\\nSlop.\\nOh! no! nothing ?;er2/ particular but you\\nknow it wont do to speak out always.\\nI always speak out Mrs. Slop I suppose\\nyour but means Isabel is likely to be married be-\\nfore your daughter.\\nOh! how could you insinuate I wouldn t\\nhave you suppose that 1 think hard of Isabel.\\nhave nt said a word to her prejudice. She is the\\npride of the town, a little angel but", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "4-\\n282 THE PLUME.\\nWill you be good enough to speak out, Mrs.\\nSlop.\\nWell, I don t know any thing against Isabel,\\nbut\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nOh Isabel goes to church and says her pray-\\ners, said Mrs. Slop, but\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nIndeed!\\n**Yes! and she goes around the village hunt-\\ning up the poor and watching over the sick, but\\nWe all know that.\\nShe is sweet-tempered too, and frugal. She\\nhas paid all her earnings to support her parents,\\nquoth Mrs. Dimple, and is a jewel, but\\nAny thing else in her praise\\nOh yes God bless her, but\\nThus does this monosyllable work, when it has\\nsomething to set it in motion, and make it hum and\\nbuzz about one s reputation. In the mouths of\\ncertain particularly mischievous, and communica-\\ntive people, it is often made to mean something,\\nand frequently followed by an explanation, as the\\nball is followed by the wadding from the canon s\\nmouth. An acquaintance of mine once wished to\\nmake some familiar enquiries respecting a young\\nlady, whom he had seen but once. Happening to\\nmeet with about a dozen different women, whom\\nhe supposed to be acquainted with her, he address-\\ned them some questions. Oh, she was a splen-\\ndid, captivating, kind-hearted, sweet-tempered,", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "A VERY CLEVER FELLOW, BUT 283\\naccomplished, domestic creature hut She\\nwas perfection itself hut. Every one, to whom\\nhe spake on the subject, gave her all the virtues\\nwhich a mortal could possess, but wound off with\\nthis infernal little, dagger-like monosyllable.\\nAfter a good deal of teazing, hut in one case meant\\nthat Mrs. Stubbs had heard Mrs. Tod say that she\\nguessed from her appearance, that the young lady\\nlaced. Horrible Another was quite positive\\nthat she had heard Mrs. Buss say, that she thought\\nold widow Sly was once just going to say, that\\nCatharine must paint a little, as she could nt have\\nsuch red cheeks unless she did. Dreadful I A\\nthird a very pious and devout lady feared\\nthat Catharine did not say her prayers, when she\\nwent to bed So they went on with their annoy-\\ning huts, till having made her out to be perfection\\nitself, they afterwards loaded her with every foible\\nknown among the sex. My friend, however, not-\\nwithstanding the huts of these respectable ladies,\\nmarried Miss Catharine, and if she is not perfec-\\ntion, it is because humanity caunot attain it. He\\nwas more fortunate than another individual, who\\nwas betrothed to a young lady, but, hearing so\\nmany insinuations thrown out by spiteful people,\\nwith their malicious huts, that, regarding her with\\nsuspicion and distrust, he broke offthe engagement.\\nIs it not quite time that people or rather the\\ngossip portion of them put a curb upon their", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "284 THE PLUME. I\\nI tongues But is a very good word in its place,\\ni but a very clever word, a remarkably clever j\\nword, but I\\nTHE TEAZLE FAMILY.\\nWho has not heard of old John Teazle and his\\nfamily? They are all remarkable for the rever-\\nence with which they adhere to what they call\\nthe good old-fashioned way. They are the\\nbest hearted people in the world and as old John\\nwould say, have made out to scrape together a\\nlittle, but they are most doggedly opposed to all I\\nmodern improvements. New fashions and inven-\\ntions are their abomination. Most of their neigh-\\nbors have given in to the spirit of the times, and\\ntaken advantage of such suggestions, as would\\nenable them to turn two pence where formerly i\\nthey turned but a single penny, but the Teazles\\nhave held out against them all keeping on in\\nthe old way, and looking with a jealous eye at the\\nstrides which improvement is making around them.\\nThey regard every movement of this kind, whether c\\nrelating to agriculture, manufactures, or the arts,\\nas a downright intrusion or some idle scheme which", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "f\\nTHE TEAZLE FAMILY.\\n285\\nis to enrich others and impoverish themselves.\\nOld John Teazle places more value upon his old\\ncoat, made and fashioned some ten or fifteen years\\nago, by an aunt Deborah Teazle, than upon all the\\nfine productions of American industry and ingenu-\\nity put together.\\nNeighbor Jones wants to buy some of our\\nland on the river to put up a factory. Talk about\\ntheir factories and such sort of things. Now, wife,\\nI like the good old fashioned hum of the spinning\\nwheel. It keeps the gals busy, it dont take such\\nan ocean of water, and was always such a favorite\\nof the Teazle family. I like the old way These\\nfactories are all sizzle, sizzle, sizzle\\nLord, yes I don t know what is coming of\\nus all. We shan t get nowhere, bimby, work as\\nhard as we can people imU get such strange no-\\ntions in their head. Why they are beginning to\\nmake stockings with their new fangled machines\\nAnd then to talk of doctors why, I d give more\\nfor a good pot of harb tea, than all the physicals\\nof the doctors. My grandmother never thought of\\nhaving a doctor till her death and she, poor soul,\\ndied before he got to her, so he did nt do her any\\ngood!\\nNothing could induce old Teazle to dispense\\nwith that hairy appendage, his queue. It was a\\nrelic of old times, and as precious in his eyes as\\nthough it dangled continually before them, instead", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f\\n286 THE PLUME.\\nof behind them in the rear of his head. And then\\nhe felt so nice, he averred, as his wife tastefully\\narranged it on vSunday morning with a piece of\\nblack ribbon, which she had done for nearly forty\\nyears. He would as soon part with his eye tooth,\\nas with the old razor, a sort of heir-loom in\\nthe family, which he had used so long, that it\\nwould shave on one side about as well as on\\nthe other. He of course turned up his nose at\\nbarbers, tailors and such people, as interfering\\nwith the good old ways. You might walk over\\nhis grounds with him, and he would take delight\\nin directing your notice to the old stones, fences and\\nbushes which he had carefully kept from being\\nmoved or altered in the least.\\nYou see what a good old fashioned look every\\nthif)g has. Neighbor Jones has been repairing\\nand building, taking down trees putting up a\\nwhite cottage with green blinds, and all that, but\\nI have let things stand as I found them, and\\nhope some how or other though I donno that\\nI ll be able to scrape together a little against a wet\\nday. They say neighbor Jones is rich but\\nriches don t come from these improvements, as\\nthey call them, depend upon it.\\nA railroad was projected through the village.\\nNow of all modern improvements, r.ail-roads were\\nregarded by all the Teazles as little better than\\nthe inventions of the devil.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "THE TEAZLE FAMILY. 287\\nNow, wife, I do hate these rail road contri-\\nvances. Give me the good old fashioned way of\\ngoing to market with the old mare, just as my fa-\\nther did. Besides this rail road will pass right\\nthrough my land\\nLord quoth Hannah Teazle, lifting up her\\nglasses, and sighing from the bottom of her heart.\\nRight through our land Marcy on us What\\nare we coming to\\nYes, neighbor Jones says, right through our\\nland so that I can t drive the cattle to water.\\nWhat would the old Teazles have said to rail\\nroads! Should nt wonder if they started out of\\ntheir graves, if they ever hear the injin when it\\ncome across our ground. Their bones Il ache\\nsome.\\nThat the rail road should pass through his land\\nand prevent his driving his cattle to the brook,\\nwas with old John Teazle an unanswerable argu-\\nment against it. A hint from neighbor Jones that\\nit would double the value of his \u00c2\u00a3:round was too\\nridiculous for a moment s consideration. Double\\nthe price of his land by taking away half of it\\nWhy, yes, said old Hannah, they did nt\\nuse to do so in old times when I was a o-al. There s\\ncousin Thompson says she would nt for the five\\nnundred silver dollars which she has got in her\\nold stockings, near a bushel full too, have the\\nrail road pass through their farm and who", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "288 THE PLUME.\\nknows better than cousin Thompson, I d like to\\nknow?\\nThis all comes of cramming our children so\\nfull ofschool larning. They get flighty notions in-\\nto their heads, which will yet turn the world upside\\ndown. I never went to school but two winters\\nmyself and now our gals must be going all the\\ntime!\\nAnd here s our Sal must have her comb, when\\nI used to tie up my hair. And would you believe\\nit, she wanted a silk gown the other day Lord\\nwhat would my mother have said, if I had asked\\nher for a silk gown I And she says when the rail\\nroad gets here, it will bring all Boston close to us,\\nand she can go a shopping before breakfast in the\\nmorning she forgets she s a Teazle. A Teazle\\nin a silk gown Boston coming to our very doors\\nand on a rail road too Who ever thought of\\nsuch a thing! And then the saucy jade says how\\nJim Clipper will come a courting on a rail road\\nHa ha! ha Courting on a rail road I heerd,\\nwhen I was a gal, of Si Barker and his sweet heart\\ncourting on a mare once but courting* on a\\nrail road he he he And the old woman laug-h-\\ned till her sides shook, and she let fall her snufF\\nbox. Then she sneezed. Yes how she did sneeze\\nWhy, wife! this is no laughing matter! It\\naint to be sneezed at. These improvements are\\nraising the old boy with us. Every body is turning\\ni\\n4-", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "4-\\nTHE TEAZLE FAMILY. 289\\nfrom the good old way. They don t walk,\\ndress, and live now as they used to do in old\\ntimes. These inventions make folks frisky, and\\ndeviate about. They ll want a rail road from their\\nplates to their mouths because they can t eat\\nfast enough, I am determined to stand up for old\\nways. Yes, the good old ways\\nGuess how people won t want rail roads to\\nmake em drink faster, said the old lady, look-\\ning round after her spectacles, which she found, as\\nshe cast her eyes at the glass, astride of her nose,\\nbut it does consarn me so to see the rising gen-\\neration so taken with new whims. Our boys are\\nforgetting the humspun ways of their fathers, and\\nour gals are eenamost ashamed to be in their bom-\\nbazines and linsey woolseys, but are all for silks\\nand rings, and such nickery nackery, while their\\nheads are filled with factories, railroads and sich in-\\nventions! Oh how flighty things are in my day\\nOld Teazle and wife, though the best natured\\npeople in the world, had rather peculiar notions.\\nThey were industrious enough, plodding from\\nmorning to night, but had a mortal aversion to\\nadopt anything which looked like an innovation upon\\nthe old fashioned ways of the Teazle family. Im-\\nprovements, that were going on around, had no\\neffect upon them. The younger members of the\\nfamily had imbibed many of the flighty notions\\nof the day, and introduced some little changes in\\n25", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "290 THE PLUME.\\ntheir intercourse with the world; and they will\\nno doubt in good time give the old homestead a\\nvery different appearance both within and without\\nfrom its present one, and so manage that the rail\\nroad may pass over their ground, and the cattle\\nbe driven to the brook into the bargain.\\nTEMPERANCE HYMN.\\n[Sung at a Fourth of July Celebration.]\\nWhen war s loud tocsin from the sea\\nAlong our peaceful vallies broke,\\nOur sires, resolving to be free,\\nThrew off the tyrant s galling yoke.\\nNo cannon s peal, no stirring drum,\\nOr tread of armies now proclaims\\nFrom hill to vale They come They come\\nTo wrap your pleasant home in flames.\\nNo warlike sound. But through the land\\nMarches a desolating foe.\\nAnd millions rise, who, hand in hand,\\nResolve to lay the Spoiler low.\\nSee like the old arch-fiend who stole\\nThe bloom from Eden s virgin bower.\\nThe Tempter with ensnaring bowl.\\nLures the young victim in his power.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2f", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "TEMPERANCE HYMN. 291\\nThough thinned his ranks and from his side\\nIn troops deserters rush away\\nWith bribes and lures extended wide\\nHe pants to seize upon his prey.\\nThe father who was lost and won,\\nThe mother in her deep despair,\\nTheir children, that the work be done,\\nBend to the earth in fervent prayer.\\nPress on but with no weary pace\\nNo fainting heart they must not be\\nExpel the Tempter from his place\\nAnd set each struggling captive free.\\nResolve I Resolve, like those of old,\\nTo sign the chart which makes you free\\nWith iNDEPEMDENCE truo and bold,\\nAssert you precious liberty\\nMaintain it in the hottest strife\\nDefend it as you prize your name\\nYour monument shall be your life.\\nLast of the Signers be your fame", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "292\\nTHE PLUME.\\nCHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN.\\nCHAPTER I.\\nDid ye not hear it No, twas hut the wind\\nOr the car rattling o er the stony street\\nBut hark, that heavy sound breaks in once more;\\nArm arm it is it is the cannon s opening roar Byron.\\nHe who fights and runs away,\\nMay live to fight another day.\\nNow let us sing, long live the King,\\nAnd Gilpin long live he,\\nAnd when he next doth ride abroad,\\nMay I be there to see. Cowper.\\nSweet Muse of History! Deign thou to hover,\\nwith thy purple pinions, over thy worshipper, as\\nhe attempts to portray the terrible conflict, on\\nthe morning of the ever memorable seventeenth,\\nwhich tried men s soles! 0^.^he night preced-\\ning, Darkness came down from her chamber, and\\nfolding around her her star-gemmed robes, threw\\nherself over the whole earth. The stars marched\\nwith regal splendor to their thrones on high. The\\nzephyrs played alike over honeysuckles and barn-\\nyards beds of onions and beds of violets, wafting\\ntheir precious odors to the nasal promontory. Men\\nand women went to bed hens to roost, and the", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 293\\nbeautiful chanticleer but if I continue in\\nthis stately strain, I shall be unable to hold out.\\nLet me then descend from romance to sober his-\\ntory.\\nEvery body knows, or may know, that a good\\nmany cannons, captured, I believe, in the old French\\nwar, by some means or other got left in different\\ntowns up and down the two banks of the Connecti-\\ncut. Sometimes they have been borrowed by one\\ntown of another, and remained so long in the bor-\\nrower s possession, that it at last claimed them as\\nits own property and refused to deliver them up.\\nIn this way these cannons have been bones of con-\\ntention between citizens of different places, and\\nas a little local pride infuses itself into the dispute,\\nthe contest sometimes becomes warm. Some of\\nthe people of my old editorial home sent to Ac-\\nworth to borrow a cannon to be used on the glo-\\nrious Fourth. It came, and was retained some\\ndays, and placed for safety in the cellar of one of\\nthe hotels. It seems that this piece of artillery\\nwas claimed by Walpole, and some of the patriotic\\nspirits of that town, hearing that it was in the\\nhands of the Claremontese, thought it a capital\\nopportunity to secure it, and come it over Ac-\\nworth, Accordingly, one morning, say at about\\ntwelve or one o clock, some fifty individuals stole\\ninto the village and made full chisel for the\\ncellar door of the hotel aforesaid. At it they went\\n25*", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "294 THE PLUME.\\nhammer and tongs, marching in solid pha-\\nlanx, plump up against the door which stood between\\nthem and the old roarer within. Now they bring\\ntheir huge paws, with the weight of a thunderbolt,\\nagainst the triple oak which in turn bids defiance\\nto their blows. Now they grit their teeth, and\\nsweat and pufF like porpoises. A part try another\\ndoor, but it is as doggedly immoveable as the other.\\nOne of the company, stepping out of the ranks be-\\nfore the cellar door, steals to a bed-room window,\\nand, as there seems no prospect of any cannonad-\\ning, commences a serenading. No sound no\\nopening of the window no nothing. He taps at\\nthe glass he lifts it, and whispers soft words into\\nthe ears of the fair sleeper now wide awake\\nand tries to persuade her to turn traitoress be-\\ncome a sort of Benedict Arnold, and deliver up\\nthe keys of the fortress. She puts her thumb to\\nthe tip of her nose and twirls her fingers with a\\nknowing wink You don t come it! Upon the\\nponderous door they commence another furious\\nonset. The combat deepeits! on ye brave! to\\nthe cannon s mouth! But (an awful pause!) a\\nfour inch oak plank is between them and that\\nmouth a protection, by the way, that many a\\npoor devil, on a more extensive field of glory, has\\nwished between him and that little death-dealing\\nmachine. I recollect that some years ago, in j\\nthe little City of Hull, where there were but i", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 295\\nthree persons to do military duty one being cap-\\ntain, one sergeant and one private the poor\\nfellow, to whose hard lot it fell to shoulder his gun,\\nand be marched up and down the streets between\\nhis two officers said he could go through all\\nthe manoeuvres and evolutions but one but he d\\nbe d if he could form a square. So our he-\\nroes could go through all the various evolutions\\nrequisite except marching single-file through that\\ncellar door. The officers called to them as the\\ncommanding officer at Bridgewater did upon Mil-\\nler Can you take that battery? I ll try,\\nsir, was the response of every mother s son, as\\nhe tugged away and sweat like a sponge. But\\nit was of no avail. In other respects, they were\\nall second Millers. The contest thickens on!\\non they rush, and meet the men and the door\\nas the wave meets the ocean rock. Clubs and\\ncurses fly feet kick fists shake- noses blow\\nBut the historian of this terrible battle must\\nleave the phalanx putting the licks into the\\ndoor, and step into the inside of the house. The\\nlandlord, being sound asleep at the first approach\\nof the invaders, had a dream, and lo it seemed as\\nif an army with banners were marching into his\\nhouse though not without knocking and about\\nto take possession of his castle, and perhaps make\\noff with the hard cider of one kind and another\\nin his cellar. Springing up in his sleep, he awoke", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "i.\\n296 THE PLUME.\\nsoon enough to learn the terrible reality. He\\ndarted after a boarder, and despatched him out\\nprivately for a writ to take the five and forty bodies\\nof the soulless assailants. He then loaded a\\ncylinder rifle, and opening the window, though he\\nfelt his courage oozing out at his finger ends, like\\nthat of Bob Acres, at every oath he took, yet\\nswo.re by all the gods and goddesses within a hun-\\ndred miles, that if they did not take to their heels\\nin double quick time, he would lodge a few ounces\\nof lead in their carcases, or, as we editors have it,\\nmake leaded matter of the whole of them. As\\nthere was no appeal from a decision of this kind,\\nhe having in fact the entire argument in his own\\nhand pointed too directly at them as he spoke\\nthe Walpolers not exactly relishing the idea of\\ncarrying home any more lead than they brought\\nup, or of being tapped on the shoulder by a sheriff\\nwith a writ, and believing, like the immortal Fal-\\nstafT in a similar exigency, discretion to be the\\nbetter part of valor, took to their heels like good\\nfellows as they are covered from head to foot\\nwith glory. During the melee, the field was cov-\\nered with almost every thing usually found on the\\nbattlefield, except dead and wounded. At\\nleast none have as yet been discovered. The last\\nofficial bulletin, dated a few hours after the mel-\\nancholy affair, reads thus", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0304.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 297\\nKilled,\\n000\\nBruised,\\n000\\nKicked,\\n1 door\\nMortally wounded,\\n000\\nMortally frightened,\\n45\\nMorn stood tip-toe on the misty mountain top,\\nand beheld the scene of carnage. The golden-\\nhaired Phcebus rose from his bed in the east, and\\nturning aside his window curtain, scratched his\\nhead and opened his golden eye upon the backs of\\nthe retreating belligerents. As he wiped away\\nthe tears that clustered in his visual organs, like\\ncrystals beautifully formed by a reiterated shak-\\ning of his sides with laughter at the dismal ap-\\npearance of so many ridiculous posteriors, as sol-\\nemnly and sad they retreated from the glorious\\nfield a rooster in the distance croived! Zeno-\\nphon s celebrated retreat of the Ten Thousand\\nover the mountains of Persia into Greece, was\\nnothing to this.\\nI congratulate the public that the termination\\nof the affair was no worse. When one thinks\\nwhat might have happened but all our thoughts\\nare absorbed by what did happen. The Walpol-\\ners, Walpoleons, or Walpolese, especially when\\naided by a few Bellowsfallsonians all good\\nnames are clever and shrewd calculators, but\\nno priming to the Acworthers or Claremontese.\\n4-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0305.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "298 THE PLUME.\\nThey are very good Walpoleons, but rather poor\\nNapoleons.\\nThe cannon was taken to Acworth the same day\\nby some fifteen individuals, who took a pistol or two\\nwith them by way of caution. When they reached\\nAcworth the people turned out, loaded the cannon,\\nand pointing it down Cod River towards Walpole\\nlet her sound long and loud! It is said the\\nWalpolers, as they heard the firing, asked each\\nother What new victory can that be for? Had\\nthey happened to be told from what cannon the\\nsound proceeded, they might have exclaimed like\\nthe fellow who swore Shakspeare stole some of his\\nideas from him By Jupiter, that s my thunder!\\nGreat praise is due to Capt. Major\\nand Corporal for the very efficient manner\\nin which they conducted the expedition, superin-\\ntended the different evolutions on the field, and\\nbrought the aflTair to so triumphant an issue.\\nI", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0306.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 299\\nCHAPTER II. THE GRAND FINALE.\\nThe race is not alwaies to\\nThe foots as fastest runs,\\nNor the battel to the peopel\\nWhat shoots the longest guns.\\nNew version of old Psalms.\\nCome out, ye Continentalers\\nWho re going for to go\\nTo fight the red coat enemy,\\nWho re plaguy cute, you know. Old Sorig.\\nThe second chapter of this veritable history,\\nwherein are recounted the wars between the Wal-\\npolers on the one side and the Acworthers and\\nClaremontese on the other, to recover the old\\nBritish six pounder, remaineth now to be written.\\nMost gladly would the historian draw a veil over\\nthe scenes which ftilowed the delivery of the Thun-\\nderer into the hands of the Acworthers, but truth\\ndemands that the grand finale of the battle, and\\nthe sad catastrophe, should be duly chronicled.\\nWhen the Acworthers had the cannon once\\nmore safe in their possession, they began to think\\nthe old fellow had had rather a narrow escape\\nduring his absence among the Claremontese.\\nThey turned the matter, like a sweet cud, over\\nand over in their minds, and the more they looked\\nat it, the more wrathy and uproarious they be-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0307.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "300 CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN.\\ncame. They could nt eat a morsel, sleep a wink,\\nor drink a drop for the very thought of it. Their\\nold Irish blood was up in a moment, and when the\\nname of a Walpoler was mentioned, they grit their\\nteeth, and muttered, something like a hungry tiger\\npacing before the bars of his cage. Four or five\\nof the stoutest got up before day-light the next\\nmorning, and walking unconsciously on the Wal-\\npole road, shook their fists vigorously in that\\ndirection. This was the first working ofthe leaven.\\nThey flew about town all day like so many work-\\ning bees, and at last swore by all that was good,\\nthat they would take that identical cannon to Wal-\\npole village, fire it off, and bring it back again at\\nall hazards. Now, when an Acworther makes a\\nthreat of this kind it will be carried out, unless\\nheaven itself interposes. The whole village make\\ncommon cause. There is not a more spunky,\\nresolute and determined set of people living, than\\nin Acworth, and every mother s son of them would\\nsooner lose his well cultivated acres, than have\\nWalpole get the better in such a contest. Well,\\nthe Acworthers had no sooner sworn to take the\\nold man eloquent to Walpole, and make him\\nspeak to the belligerents there, than he was\\nmounted on a cart, and under an escort of some\\nfifty or a hundred hard-fisted, dare-devil old farm-\\ners and mechanics, armed to the teeth, was put\\non the line of march. They were so furious and", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0308.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 301\\nimpatient for an encounter with their haughty op-\\nponents, that they ran the cart off the road a little,\\nand breaking, it let the old burster flat down\\nupon the ground. A detachment was sent for a new\\nvehicle, and vvhile they were absent, the guards,\\nbeing full of the old boy, thought they would\\nlet Walpole know they were coming, and give\\nher a rouser. No sooner said than done. The\\norder went round. Six pounds of powder were\\nbrought and clapp d in green brake leaves at the\\nside of the road were pulled up for wadding, and\\nthe whole being rammed down, the piece was\\nready to speak for herself in short or long metre.\\nSome of the Acvvorthers, having the bump of cau-\\ntion pretty well developed, and not being over\\nanxious for any additional protuberances on the\\nhead, and especially such as the old ihunderer\\nwould be likely to make thought there might\\nperhaps be a little danger in putting the match\\nto the touch-hole, For security on all sides, ihey\\nconcluded to apply a slow match and conceal\\nthemselves. Well the old fellow was pointed\\ntowards Walpole, loaded to the very muzzle, as\\nwe have said the slow match applied, and the\\nAcworthers exclaiming, as they lay snugly hid be-\\nhind treeS; stone walls, etc. etc. Let her went V\\nwhen Boong Whir-r-r-chuck, off she\\nwent lickity split!\\nSic gloria Stark\\n2G\\n4-", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0309.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "302 THE PLUME.\\nWhy, you, we ve got another hail storm, aint\\nwe said one Acworther to another, raising his\\nhead very cautiously above the wall, looking\\naround and not exactly comprehending the nature\\nof the substance that was falling about them, nor\\nin fact the nature of the ease at all, which was\\nneither more nor less than that the old gun had\\nbursted into ten thousand pieces. The frag,\\nments fell like hail, and went like grape shot into\\nthe surrounding buildings. One large piece swung\\nover the whole length of the village, like a small\\nmountain but fortunately no one was hurt by\\nthe explosion. Well might the sturdy Acworth-\\ners ask of each other Why, you, we ve got\\nanother hail storm with a vengeance, aint we.\\nWhew how it pours down\\nSic gloria Stark\\nThe exclamation reminds me that I must not\\nclose the history of this eventful day without giv-\\ning a brief reminiscence in regard to the famous\\ncannon which came to so untimely an end. Ii is\\nfamous world-famous in the annals of the\\nyoung republic. It has made more noise in the\\nworld than many a greater blusterer. Fame\\ntwines her evergreen around it. Ten thousand\\nassociations linked with the deeds of the Green\\nMountain Boys and the field of their youthful re-\\nnown, with every rocky pass, every glen and\\nmountain stream, cling to and cluster around its", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0310.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 303\\ntime-honored fragments, and come thronging up\\nfrom the glorious past as the pen traces the exit\\nof the illustrious old out-speaker. Were every\\nparticle of the ringing old metal brought back\\nagain, and planted on the grave of the Stark\\nOF Bennington, what a splendid monument would\\nit form for the old hero Dumb though it be, it\\nhas spoken oft and loud spoken from the British\\ncamp and when captured by the twin-brother of\\nDanger, from the American heights, it has spoken\\nterror and dismay to the hearts of its old masters!\\nThe old piece which went off so suddenly at\\nAcworth, was one of those which the immortal\\nStark took at Bennington in 1777 and brought\\nhome with him. He made a formal present of\\nthese trophies of victory to the State of New\\nHampshire. They were scattered among the\\ntowns along the river, and this particular cannon\\nfell within the limits of Walpole, being in posses-\\nsion of an old family well known among the early\\nsettlers and residents of the town. Some years\\nafter, the legislature, by a special act, made a\\ngrant of the piece to Walpole. It thus belonged\\nto that town. Walpole loaned it to Alstead some\\ntime after, and by some operation of which I am\\nignorant, the last named place let the Acworth-\\ners have it for a temporary purpose, and they\\nhave claimed to be its owners from that day to\\nthis. Having held it a long while undisputed by", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0311.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "I 304 THE PLUME.\\nWalpole, thej probably supposed it was theirs by\\nthe right of possession. The Walpolers have tried,\\nmany times and oft, to recapture the piece, but\\nthe Acvvorthers have always been too cunning for\\nthem, and held on, like the tooth-ache, to the\\nrevolutionary veteran. The contest has not un-\\nfrequently waxed warm, and, had it not been for\\nthe bursting of the cannon last week, there would\\nmost assuredly have been bloody work on the ap-\\npearance of the Acworthers in the Square at Wal-\\npole. It is fortunate that the piece is where it is\\nblown to atoms for, honored as the old war-\\nrior is, I should rather see him stretched mute\\non the field than any of the valorous spirits and\\nclever fellows who would have mingled in the\\naffray, had Greek met Greek. The exploit among\\nthe Claremontese on the morning of the 17th, has\\nit not been already celebrated in befitting terms?\\nHow the Acworthers felt, what they did, and how\\ntheir favorite gun fared in the didding on t,\\nhas also been told.\\nThe Walpolers felt much more down in the\\nmouth than their foes up the Cold River. Find-\\ning the cannon was beyond their reach, and hear-\\ning its unwelcome salute, as, pointed towards their\\nown pleasant village, it poured out its volume of\\nfire and smoke from the plains of Acworth, they\\nlonged to get it once more into their possession.\\nVarious exploits suggested themselves, and at last", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0312.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "H^\\nCHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 305\\none was adopted which will answer every purpose,\\nexcept restoring the cannon safe and sound again.\\nThey immediately brought an action against\\nthe acworthers for the recov ery of the piece.\\nIt had been blown sky high in the mean time, and\\nfailing to recover that, they are looking for dam-\\nages. Such is the grit, the spunk and spirit of\\nold Acworth, that I have no doubt every man\\nthere would be willing to sink his farm rather than\\nthat the Walpolers should get the least advantage\\nof them in the suit.\\nThe historian cannot bring his veritable chroni-\\ncle to a close without paying due honor to two\\nactors in the eventful storming of the cellar door\\non the morning of the 17th. Their exploits are\\nworthy of Stark, or Wolf, or Montcalm. When\\nthe bloody minded Walpoler, as mentioned in the\\nfirst chapter, stole to the bed-room window to per-\\nsuade the fair sleeper to turn traitress, and, like a\\nshe-Benedict Arnold, to deliver up the keys of the\\ncitadel when he was in the very act of raising the\\nsash from without it is related that a gentle ap-\\nparition, in dishevelled dress and rohes de chainbre,\\nstood at the window, and, with a spit in her hand,\\nthreatened instant annihilation. Dartincf the for-\\nmidable weapon back and forth in the moonlight,\\nthrough the open crack of Ihe window, and with\\nthreatening mein also, she held the rash intruders\\nat bay till the keeper of the castle slipp d up into\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a226^", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0313.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "306 THE PLrME.\\nthe attic to rouse a boarder snoring there, Chester\\nnamed. The said knight sprang from his bed,\\nwrong end foremost, jumped into his trowsers,\\nwhich he tore with a noise as though heaven and\\nearth were coming together, and having procured\\na dark lantern and an old queen s arm well loaded\\nwith buck shot, slowly and cautiously on tiptoe,\\ndescended the stairs of the besieged cellar. Clap-\\nping the lantern in a twinkling under his arm, he\\nstraddled the old cannon, and cocking his gun,\\nlevelled it straight to the door, so wofully beset\\nfrom without. In this ticklish position did that\\ngood knight sit for two long hours, till the cock\\ncrowed, and told him that day had come and the\\nenemy had retreated from the field. Honor to\\nthe arm that thus stood between the old Stark and\\nthe jaws of death! And thus abrubtly closes the\\nchronicle of the Bennington gun!\\nNote. As there has been some dispute in regard to the true\\nreading of the quotation at the head of one of the Chapters of\\nthis history, I subjoin all the correspondence which has thus far\\ntaken place on the subject. As I am resolved to have the last\\nword upon so important a question as this, i must caution my\\nfriend of the Telegraph to be very careful in his notice of the con-\\ntroversy hereafter. It is several years since the correspondence\\ntook place, and every thing that has since occured has only served\\nto confirm my own statement.", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0314.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "CHRONICLE OF THE BENNINGTON GUN. 307\\nFrom the Nashua Telegraph.\\nWe are exceedingly pained to enter into a controversy, upon\\nany matter of vital interest to the community, with the editor of\\na public journal, with whom we have long acted in harmony upon\\nall subjects, and for whom we have had the highest respect, both\\nfor his talents and his patriotism but when he so far forgets his\\nduty as to do violence to the good taste and the good sense of the\\ncommunity, we feel that forbearance ceases to be a virtue.\\nThe editor of the Claremont Eaple is certainly wrong in his quo-\\ntation of the new version of Old Psalms. Jt should be\\nThe race is not always got\\nBy him that fastest runs,\\nNor is the battel to the peepel\\nWhat has the loni^est guns.\\nFrom tke Claremont Eagle.\\nThis is T^^hat Sheridan s heroine would call an impeachment\\nof our parts of speech Instead of arguing the point at all, we\\nshall silence all further controversy by informing the editor of the\\nTelegraph, that we were well acquainted with that old musical\\nfirm, Sternhold and Hopkins, or in common parlance, we knew\\nthem like a book. In fact we used to spell in the same class\\nat school with them, and sing out of the same psalm book at\\nchurch. We saw the lines in dispute when they were written,\\nand took a copy of them, so that we cannot be mistaken, in the\\nmatter. Well aware it would hurt the feelings of our friend to\\nknow that we had this personal knowledge of the illustrious au-\\nthors of these more illustrious lines, we withheld it from him till\\nnow. We came within an ace of making a bet with him last\\nweek that ours was the true reading, but on second thought it\\nwould be rather bad to see him caught in that way. The true\\nreading is that given by us as follows i/e being the old ab-\\nbreviation of the,", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0315.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "308 THE PLUME.\\nYe race is not alwaj s to\\nYe foots as fastest runs.\\nNor ye battel to ye peepel\\nWhats shoots the longest guns.\\nThere is one version which runs thus, but we regard it as\\napochraphal\\nThe race is nuts always guts\\nBy feets vot fastest runs\\nNor is the battel to the peepel\\nVot bangs on with the biggest cannons.\\nThere, the question is no longer an open one any more than\\nan oyster in Orgust. It is settled fixed done up\u00e2\u0080\u0094 closed\\nin a word hermetrically sealed at both ends.\\nTHE STAR IN THE EAST.\\nLight on Judea s hills The Shepherds song-,\\nAs on their slopes their flocks they watched, arose,\\nThen died among the sighing of the palms\\nAnd the tall cedars.\\nHark the merry dance\\nIn Herod s princely halls, the music s swell,\\nAnd the wild joy which stirs the company.\\nWhen seen the royal robes The Kijvg The King\\nH^", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0316.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "THE STAR IN THE EAST. 309\\nLight on Jiidea s hills O er palace, cot,\\nA single star darts forth its golden ray.\\nTo touch tiie embers of the sleeping soul,\\nAnd turn its eye to God.\\nThe Magi come.\\nAnd the old philosophers of the East,\\nWith myrrh and precious gifts. That twinkling star\\nShines like a jewel from the Throne on High,\\nAnd bright illumes their way. Lo Lo it stands\\nHigh over Bethlehem, and pointeth where\\nThe infant Jesus lay.\\nLight on thy hills\\nJudea! Light! Light for thy bruised hearts\\nThey knelt. They worshipped him, and from their lips\\nWent up the glorious Anthem of the Soul\\nGlory to God! Good Will and-Peace to Man!\\nGlory and Hosanna in the Highest\\nLight on Judea s hills It shall herald\\nA rosy dawn. Light! Light to sinful man\\nDaughter of Sion I Fair Jerusalem\\nLight on thy spires and vine-clad hills Light Light I\\nAnd, there he lay within a manger s shroud.\\nWith Mary at the inn. The iron tread\\nOf soldiers, and hurrying to and fro\\nOf the care-worn and busy citizen.\\nFell on the Viririn s ear with dread, and smote", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0317.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "310 THE PLUME.\\nHer throbbing breast. They passed not one of all\\nIn that vast multitude, whom Herod sent\\nTo seize her infant, thought to find a Prince\\nThroned in a hostelry. So, on they passed\\nThe joyous dance went on. In royal state,\\nThe King led forth his daughter, and the song\\nRose from sweet lips, bedewed with rosy wine.\\nA MESSAGE FOR THE EIlNG\\nWhat Ho The Babe\\nSpeak ye, good sirs He who was to be Kikg.^\\nAnd Herod s brow grew dark\\nLight on thy hills, Judea Holy Light\\nAnd thou, Jerusalem Light on thy hills\\nLight on Gallilee Light, Light on Olivet\\nA King A King is born His sceptre, Peace\\ni His crown, the glory of the Mighty God\\nHis Throne, the hearts of men. His empire wide,\\nAll space, the Universe of Thought. His reign,\\nForever, and immortal as the stars,\\nThat sang together over Eden s bloom\\nHis mission. Love and Peace to all the world\\nI His subjects, all created things. His Law\\nI God s eternal, unchangeable decree!", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0318.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "THE STAR IN THE EAST. 311.\\nLight on thy hills, Judea! Hail Ilail Hail\\nLight to the Universe Light through all time\\nLight celestial! Hail! Hail! A Kkvg is born!\\nThe Saviour of the world I Jesus All Hail\\nEmanuel Thou art ever with us\\nThou cam st to save thy people from their sms\\nLight Light to the world", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0319.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "314.77-9", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0320.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0321.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0322.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0323.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3522", "width": "1900", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0324.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3502", "width": "1758", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0325.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3655", "width": "2084", "jp2-path": "plumetuftofliter00warl_0326.jp2"}}