Obrazy na stronie

Now our rapid che, che, che,
Beats a quick tune merrily.
Nighted travellers beware
Of our engine have a care,
Smooth and swift the death behind thee
Will not spare if it shall find thee.
Past the shops, whose iron clangor
Through the daylight hours resounds,
With a hoarse and roaring anger,
Speed we from the city's bounds;
Onward, through the cave of night,
Boring with our signal light.
Though the sky is gloaming o’er us
We will trust the track before us-
We will trust the iron bands,
Laid and kept by other hands.

So within us and without us
Runs and opens life about us.
Reason shoots a slender light
Through an awful world of night.
Not a star in all the spheres
Shows us of our onward years—
Shows us of the gullied ditch,
Fallen rock, nor open switch.
But, by Faith, we trust the bands,
Laid and kept by other hands.
Faith, alone, in act, succeeds-

Faith in fixed and ordered parts,

Faith in other hands and hearts;
Faithful follows, faithful leads.

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But approach this iron portal,

Look upon these prisoned fires,
Here behold a force immortal,
Here a strength that never tires-
Strength that shook its loins gigantic,

Ages past, before the prime,
Gored the globe in lusty antic,

Ere the coming in of time.
Shaping now our human race,
As it shaped their dwelling-place.


Touch the whistle quick and sharp,

Choke the fierce propelling steam,
Starting from the shadowy warp,

In the searching signal gleam,
See the midnight stalker's back!

Whirl the bell !
Life's in danger on the track.

All is well!
Passed he is, and let our eyes,
Inward turning, moralize.

Brakes were hugged about the wheels,
All the cranks a stillness kept,

Shadows on the polish slept,

And the demon under seals.
Quiet lulled the murinuring ire
Of our iron heart of fire,
Till we chafed it into toil,
Gave it blast and gave it oil.
Now we nurse a mad delight,

Dash the iron leagues behind,

Horse a wrath, and drink a wind,
Run, outrageous through the night.
What shall start before us now,
With defiance on its brow?
Think you, on our thunder track,
Even a king could frown us back?
Could he-were our train a State,

After ages of delay,
Plunged towards an onward fate

Leagues of progress in a day-
Onward plunged, in all its parts,
By a million earnest hearts-
Camp and council, court and press,
By the steam of strong distress!
Kings have stood in such an hour,
In the full conceit of power;
Stood and faced a coming wrath,
Till it brushed them from the path;
Till their optics might behold
Wreck and redness manifold-
Fury, and a lust to kill;

Stars and orders, robes and thrones,

Reverend and anointed bones
Crunched amid a roaring mill-
Till they saw, and cried to see,

Fatal is necessity.
Powers there are in governments,
Passions, principles, events,
Break whose checks and counter-checks,
And you break a thousand necks.

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More the power, the deeper need
In the eyes that check and lead.
Powers without forerunning eyes-
Blind cyclopean energies
Roar along an aimless track,
Tear the world and go to wrack.
Powers there are that, fed and fanned,
Burst the rein of all command.


Past the forest, past the grange,
Past the misty mountain range,
Past the ledges gleaming dank,
Past the hovel, past the tank,
Past the shaggy gorge profound,
Echoes over doubtful ground,
Kennelled in the far morass,
Baying at us as we pass,
O'er the bridge, and through the tunnel,
Shoots our comet-bearing funnel ;
Past the village dimly lighted,

Laid away in curtained rest,
Onward, howsoe'er benighted,

Burns our iron-hearted breast.

Ever thus, O noble heart,
Thou must do a noble part.
While the ways are wild and deep,
While the world is gone to sleep,
Run thy race and do thine own,
Even in darkness and alone.


Hark! what means yon fearful humming,

Hurtling on the midnight air ? 'Tis-it is a vengeance coming! Back! Reverse! Bind hard the breaks there.

Light, a light !-
Hard and tight!
Ruin and death!
Clang the bell.
From our iron lungs
Give the whistle breath,
With an open throat,
And a wrath beneath
Smite the air

With a huge despair.
Vain it is-give o'er endeavor-

Yonder see the sparkles flashing.

Quick! Avaunt! avoid the crashing. Clutch your time, or sleep for ever.

Now or never !


Concluded from page 426.


CHAPTER IX. In the course of time, Tom Farren became unfortunate. He had proposed six times to Louise, and exactly six times had he been rejected. He was anxious to marry, and to marry well. He thought Louise a most estimable, well bred young lady, who would show to decided advantage as Mrs. Farren. He particularly admired her hauteur, and reserve. She could not have employed a more effectual method of binding young Farren's heart, than by indulging in her natural imperturbable dignity and hauteur. He did not think she was less kind to him than she was to others. He was quite sure Dashwood had never won more smiles than he had. But Tom Farren could not fathom such a heart. He knew not the depth of the still waters. He knew not of the fairy palace reared beneath the polished surface, and of the gem-like hopes all shining there. What could he know of the gorgeous dream-land in which this placid beauty revelled ?

Meantime Dashwood's beautiful book was insinuating its smoothly flowing sentiments into every heart. People were speaking of him as of a genius. Young ladies, of romantic temperaments, were inditing odorous epistles to him, and some leading men were determined to take him by the hand. Our attaché was on the wing, and sustaining himself beautifully, like a young eagle born to fly in the very eye of the sun.

Dashwood had written that he was coming home. Miss Ellen McGregor had written very many times, exulting in her nephew's success, thanking us for all our kindness to him, and predicting still more wonderful things, of this most gifted of mortals.

Mrs. Braxley, highly offended at her protegée's want of taste in refusing Tom Farren six times, made a will out of spite, and left me every dollar she had in the world. This sudden ch in her temporal affairs alarmed me very much, inasmuch as Mr. Farren began to talk to me one evening, after dinner, about a model bee-hive. Grandma—when Mr. Farren took a chair, strode across the room, and planted himself upright in front of mewas visibly affected.

I, who knew that Aunt Braxley made half a dozen wills per annum, was very much shocked at this rash proceeding. Nobody enjoyed Mr. Farren's demonstrations more than Uncle Joe, whose vein of

fun was not yet exhausted. Grandma would have had me—the fastidious authoress-the destined historian of the Feejees—the light of the nineteenth century-fairly to jump at such a proposal. She implored me not to be so foolishly blind to my own interests. She promised to keep Aunt Braxley to that last will and testament, but I could not consent to any such uncertainty. At last, Grandma gave over her persuasions, and bade me go and be an old maid, she did not care.

The subject now uppermost in our thoughts was Dashwood's return. My brother was so impatient to see his friend, that he must needs go a hundred miles to meet him. Louise, with glittering eye and high listed head, went on in the even tenor of her way—and on the very day she expected her lover, the daring girl managed to have an engagement to dine

Her heart was certainly pitched an octave higher than other people's. She ordered the carriage and drove off about an hour before the ardent lover was expected. On her way, she met Tom Farren, who was doubtless coming over to see the meeting, and I need not say, she left that orderly, systematic young man, completely petrified on the highway.

Dashwood and Robert came, driven home triumphantly by Sap, and drawn by the ponies. As soon as Dashwood descended lightly from the open carriage, Grandma squeaked out in a high treble, “Oh, gracious! what a sweet, love of a fellow !"

Papa met him with a hearty welcome. Mamma brushed away a tear, and the noble fellow took both her hands in his own, and kissed her. He greeted Grandma with elaborate and chivalrous respect. and Mrs. Braxley with profound obedience. But Uncle Joe-kind-hearted, beaming Uncle Joe-he took in his arms, whirled him around, and such a meeting as they had, somewbat opened Mrs. Braxley's eyes, and caused Grandma to guess there was a spy in the camp. Dashwood's eye now sought Louise, and there was a slight shade perceptible in his face.

Louise could not complain of demonstrations now, or fear an exposé. His hardiesse was quite equal to her own. He was as pleasant and entertaining as though her royal eye had been upon him. A malicious person would have said he was not so much in love after all. That he could, at least, exist without her.

Late in the evening, the young lady, accompanied by Mr. Farred. arrived.

Dashwood encountered her, purposely I There is something due from me to my dare say, before she expected it; and he children, as well as from them to me. It had the satisfaction to see the pearly is my duty to be reasonable with so recheek flush in a moment, and the eye, spectful and gentlemanly a fellow as my with its jealous lash, glisten, as he took son Robert; and it also beomes me to her hand. He had scarcely time to mark yield a point to a young lady who has the tremor and the blush, ere Louise had proved herself so noble as my daughter recovered, and welcomed him in her clear Louise. This I do proudly ; because it is silver tones. But my sister looked more my duty and privilege thus to reward beautiful that evening, than ever before. such respect and such obedience." There was a tinge upon her cheek which "Ha! ha!” cried Robert, “I knew how was not always there, and a light in her it would all end !" magnificent eyes which was seldom seen. “A very weak father, a vastly weak She smiled several times on Mr. Farren, father," was Mrs. Barbara's comment, on but not once on Dashwood. It was so learning the state of affairs. like her, Dashwood said, to go off when “A man after my own heart, by Jove !" she expected him. She did not wish to cried uncle Joe. meet him in the portico, when all were “My own dear papa !” cried Louise, clamoring a welcome. She was so exqui- rushing to his arms. sitely refined, that she dreaded the shock, “Why, Dabney!” remarked Mrs. Braxand feared for her boasted self-possession. ley, with elevated brows.

“ Now when we met," he said, after * God bless him!” interrupted uncle Mr. Farren had left, and he could sum Joe, snapping his fingers under the very mon the boldness to draw very near to eyes of his sovereign mistress. Louise — “ now,

dear Jenny, when we “Why, Joseph !” ejaculated the astonmet, this young lady was almost tempted ished lady. to scream."

Hearing that Miss Willianna was no “Indeed!” said Louise, for the first longer in the market, and that there was time raising her eyes to his.

no danger of his being caught by that “She wanted very much to faint," con cunning angler, while Robert was devoting tinued Dashwood, “and, with all her pla himself to Therese, Dashwood consented cidity, she has yet to conquer some very to accompany Mr. Rushton, junior, to see rebellious emotions."

his lady love. My brother was himself Louise smiled, and Dashwood seemed again with Dashwood. He forgot all to be never tired of looking at her. Robert trouble and care in his gay presence. hung about this beautiful pair. He seemed Never were two gallants so perfectly conto exult in their happiness, and to watch genial ; Robert was always piquant and their countenances with vivid delight. original to Dashwood, and Dashwood was

Papa saw the change in Louise. He always gloriously brilliant to Robert. saw his beautiful child, as if by magic, Louise became really merry in their solooking her former self. He saw her ciety. Fairy Hill acknowledged the prelovely and serene, in the fulness of her sence of its master spirit in Dashwood. happiness. He saw mamma too, as she Papa, too, yielded to the irresistible charm unconsciously betrayed, in every action, of his manner, and grew excessively fond her love for the poet. He saw us all of his society. Dashwood had many adclustering around him, listening to him, ventures to relate, and talked of every devouring him with our eyes, enjoying thing but his book. His success, his few his anecdotes, electrified by his happy laurels so recently won, his increasing sallies, and forgetting every thing but the popularity, his high standing among men bliss of our reunion; and papa was almost of letters—all this was a sealed volume conquered.

with him. He was ever the unselfish and Even grandma was drawn within this elegant gentleman, pleasing all, but never magic circle, around which uncle Joe flut vaunting himself. Never boasting in word, tered, like a man whose judgment could or look, but wearing his new honors with not always control the limbs of his body, a modest grace. But what was new to us even in a certain person's awful presence. was not so to him. It was nothing new

Finally, after a long conversation with to him that he could write charminglymamma, Robert, and myself, papa came that he was master of all the intricacies into measures.

of the language--that poetry flowed spon" To confess the truth,” said us, taneously from his pen, and that he had “ when a man has such dutiful and re the material within him of which great spectful children, he can scarcely find it men are formed. He must have felt a in his heart to deny them any thing. He consciousness of this from boyhood. He must not allow his prejudices and prefer must have known this amid all his vagaences to interfere with their happiness. ries, and therefore he was not unduly

papa to

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