Part 28 (1/2)

INFLUENCES.

Drop follows drop and swells, With rain, the sweeping river; Word follows word, and tells A truth that lasts forever.

Flake follows flake, like sprites, Whose wings the winds dissever; Thought follows thought, and lights The realms of mind forever.

Beam follows beam, to cheer The cloud a bolt would s.h.i.+ver; Dream follows dream, and fear Gives way to joy forever.

The drop, the flake, the beam, Teach us a lesson ever; The word, the thought, the dream, Impress the heart forever.

MUSINGS.

Few the joys--oh! few and scattered-- That from fleeting life we borrow; And we're paying, ever paying, With an usury of sorrow!

If a bright emotion, pa.s.sing, Casts a sun-ray o'er our faces, Plodding Time--the envious plowman-- Soon a shadowy furrow traces!

If a hope--ambition-nurtured-- Gilds our future, ere we've won it, Vaunting Time--the h.o.a.ry jailor-- Shuts his somber gates upon it!

If a heart our bosom seeking, With a fond affection woos it, Heartless Time--remorseless reaper-- Sweeps his ruthless sickle through it!

Things of earth, all, all, are shadows!

And while we in vain pursue them, Time unclasps his withered fingers-- And our wasted life slips through them.

LINES.

WRITTEN ON VIEWING TURKEY POINT FROM A DISTANCE.

Thou gray old cliff, like turret raised on high, With light-house mingling with the summer sky, How long in lonely grandeur hast thou stood, Braving alike the wild winds and the flood?

What howling gales have swept those sh.o.r.es along, What tempests dire have piped their dismal song.

And lightnings glared those towering trees among?

And oft, as now, the summer sun has shed His golden glories round thy mountain head, And tarried there with late and lingering hues, While all below was steeped in twilight dews, And night's proud queen, in ages past, as now, Hung her pale crescent o'er thy beetling brow.

Soft lamp--that lights the happy to their rest, But wakes fresh anguish in the hapless breast, And calls it forth a restless ghost, to glide In lonely sadness up the mountain side; And couldst not thou, oh! giant of the past, Some far off knowledge o'er my senses cast, Sigh in the hollow moanings of the gale, And of past ages tell mysterious tale-- Speak of those ages of primeval worth, And all the hidden wonders of thy birth-- Convulsions strange that heaved thy mighty breast, And raised the stately ma.s.ses of thy crest?

Perchance the Indian climbed thy rugged side, Ere the pale face subdued his warlike pride, And bent him down to kneel, to serve, to toil, To alien shrines upon his native soil.

It needs not thee, O mount! to tell the story That stained the wreath of many a hero's glory; But Nature's mysteries must ever rest Within the gloomy confines of thy breast, Where wealth, uncounted, hapless lies concealed, Locked in thine inmost temple unrevealed.

MRS. SARAH HALL.

Mrs. Sarah Hall was born in Philadelphia October 30th, 1761, and died in that city April 8th, 1830. She was the daughter of the Rev. John Ewing, D.D., a member of the Ewing family of the Eighth district of this county, and one of the most distinguished scholars and divines of his time, and who was for many years Provost of the University of Pennsylvania and pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Philadelphia.

Miss Ewing's early education was confined to learning to read and write, and in acquiring a thorough knowledge of housewifery. In 1782 she married John Hall, a member of the Hall family of the Eighth district, and the newly wedded pair came to reside in the house near Rowlandville, formerly owned by the late Commodore Conner, and now occupied by his son P.S.P. Conner.

It was while residing in this old mansion, surrounded by the picturesque scenery of the Octoraro hills, that she wrote the poem ent.i.tled ”Sketch of a Landscape,” which no doubt was inspired by the beauty of the surrounding scenery and the fine view of the ”Modest Octoraro,” which may be had from the porch of the old historic mansion in which she resided.

After a residence of about eight years in Cecil county the family removed to Philadelphia, where Mr. Hall successively filled the offices of Secretary of the Land Office, and United States Marshal for the District of Pennsylvania. The family returned to Maryland in 1805, and resided on Mr. Hall's paternal estate for about six years.

Mrs. Hall's literary career commenced with the publication of her writings in the _Port Folio_, a literary magazine published in Philadelphia about the beginning of this century, and of which her son, John E. Hall, subsequently became the editor. She soon attained high rank as a magazine writer, and, until the time of her death, occupied a position second to none of the female writers of this country.

Mrs. Hall is best known in the literary world by her book ent.i.tled ”Conversations on the Bible.” It was written after she was fifty years of age and the mother of eleven children, and was so popular as to astonish its author by the rapidity of its sale.