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Read Ebook: Graham's Magazine Vol. XVIII No. 1 January 1841 by Various Graham George R Editor
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Ebook has 595 lines and 56133 words, and 12 pages
Editor: George R. Graham
Contents
Fiction, Literature and Articles
The Lost Evening Yoo-Ti-Hu Leaves from a Lawyer's Port-Folio My Progenitors The Blind Girl The Reefer of '76 The Syrian Letters Clara Fletcher Sports and Pastimes Angling Review of New Books
Poetry, Music and Fashion
The Young Rambler The Waters of Lethe Language of the Wild Flowers A Soldier's the Lad for Me To the Pine on the Mountain Sabbath Bells.--Impromptu A Sea Scene Thine--Only Thine The Indian Maid The Latest Fashions, January 1841
GRAHAM'S
LADY'S AND GENTLEMAN'S
MAGAZINE.
EMBRACING
EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE:
EMBELLISHED WITH
ENGRAVINGS, FASHIONS, AND MUSIC,
ARRANGED FOR THE
PIANO-FORTE, HARP, AND GUITAR.
PHILADELPHIA: GEORGE R. GRAHAM. 1841.
INDEX
TO THE
EIGHTEENTH VOLUME.
FROM JANUARY, TO JUNE, 1841, INCLUSIVE.
POETRY.
STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
The Playmates. Fashions for January colored. The Blind Girl of Pompeii. Fashions for February colored. Why don't he Come? Fashions for March colored. He Comes. Fashions for April colored. The Mother's Pride. Fashions for May. Ladies of Queen Victoria's Court--correct likenesses-- colored. The Island of the Fay. Fashions for June, colored.
MUSIC.
The Indian Maid, by S. Nelson, 42 Not for Me! Not for Me! by M. W. Balfe, 88 You never knew Annette, by C. M. Sola, 138 Oh! Gentle Love, by T. Cooke, 193 The Sweet Birds are Singing, by J. Moschelles, 244 Let Me Rest in the Land of my Birth, by J. Harroway, 290
GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.
THE YOUNG RAMBLER.
BY THOMAS G. SPEAR
O'er a landscape array'd in the verdure of June, While the sky was serene, and the birds were in tune, From his vine-cover'd home, with his dog and his toy, Went the glad-hearted youth in the hey-day of joy.
He saunter'd away in his quest of delight, As heedless of rest as a bird in its flight, Allur'd by the flowers, and sooth'd by the gale, O'er the green-sloping hill and the fair sunny vale.
With a fondness to roam, and a wish to be free, He bounded in triumph, or whistled in glee, Now crushing a blossom, or plucking a bough, Or climbing a tree by the cliff's rugged brow.
With his dog at his side, o'er the heather he flew, Where the clover-bed bloom'd, or the strawberry grew, And trampled the grass that encumber'd the plain, While flutter'd the flock from the clustering grain.
He knew the lone spots of the forest and glen, The rook of the crow, and the nest of the wren, And hied as a forager there for his prey, But left the wood-tenants unharm'd in their play.
And there by the brookside, when tir'd of play, He gazed on the charms of the slow-dying day, And thought, as it gave to some lovelier land, The blaze of that light which the zenith had spann'd,
That a ray there must be to illumine the heart-- A guide and a goal for man's innermost part-- A Glory unknown, to be follow'd and bless'd, That again would recall what it gave to its breast.
When Love can a lustre so beautiful shed, It were sad if the soul could be lost or misled, Or its flight to its source be less cheerful and bright, Than the blaze of that sun 'neath the curtains of night.
With the lovely illusions of day's mellow'd scene, All around him was radiant, and vocal, and green, But now as he gaz'd on the sky and the air, No melody rose, and no splendour was there.
"Oh! keep me," he said, "in the path where I stray, Illum'd by the warmth of some soul-cheering ray-- That my glance may be clear thro' the cloud and the storm, When the night of the grave has o'ershadow'd my form."
He look'd as a child, but he felt as a man, And in Wisdom concluded what Folly began; Then in silence his steps he was fain to resume, Ere the shadowy fall of the thick-coming gloom.
Soon up from the shore, and away from the stream, He wended as one that was wak'd from a dream, For the voice of a thought had been heard in his heart, And the lingering whisper was slow to depart.
His vine-cover'd home in the twilight was nigh, And the whipporwill sending its plaint to the sky, And the bark of his dog, and the voice at the door, He welcom'd with joy when his ramble was o'er.
Though dear to his vision that forest-bound scene, With its dwelling of peace on a carpet of green, The wild spot his memory loves to restore, Is the path to that stream, and the oak by its shore.
THE LOST EVENING.
BY JESSE E. DOW.
"There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune."
"Maurice stay and go with me to the ball at Mrs. Wilson's this evening," said a fairy formed creature with eyes that sparkled with anticipated delight, as she rested her hand upon a young naval officer's arm and gazed upon his manly features.
"A seaman's sepulchre--" said the lovely girl, as the tears started into her eyes and glittered like tiny pearls upon her long dark eye-lashes.
"But Maurice, you can go at eleven and accompany me to the ball beside. The last evening you spend at Belleview should be spent with your friends."
The young man hesitated no longer. "Mary," said he, "you have conquered, I will accompany you to Mrs. Wilson's and leave at eleven--I shall then bear with me your last impression; and when the tempest howls and the billows toss their snowy spray around me, when the never wearied Petril sings in the hollows of ocean astern, and the thunder awakes the echo of the deep--then while the good ship scuds along her lightning way, will I recall this evening of light and beauty, and with my dread-nought wrapped about me, keep my midnight watch, happier far, than the lazy commodore who snores in a velvet night-cap in his luxurious cabin."
"Well, Maurice, you have finished at last," said the laughing girl leaning upon his arm, "I never expected to hear the end of your rhapsody when you commenced--but come let us go in for I have much to do and the evening approaches." The young man returned her animated glance with a gaze of deep devotion and following her, entered the house from the garden Verandah. There was no one in the drawing-room when Maurice Fitzgerald and Mary Howard entered.
"Maurice," said the young maiden as she pointed out upon the ocean, and then turned to a table of magazines and annuals, "Nature and art are placed before you, and I shall leave you to be amused by them until my father's return." Thus saying, the light hearted girl bounded away to dress for the coming rout. Fitzgerald answered with a smile and then turned to gaze upon the prospect that spread out before his uncle's mansion. The broad Atlantic was seen for several miles rolling in the crimson light of the setting sun, and the hollow roar of its distant breakers burst upon his ear. The sea-birds in forked trains were seen winging their garrulous flight toward the land, and the successful fishermen were casting their scaly spoil upon the beach. It was a quiet evening, notwithstanding the wind in cat's paws ruffled the surface of the deep, and wailed sadly amid the branches of the elm trees that lined the avenue in front of the mansion.
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