TRUTH AND ERROR.
{"newspaper_name": "Mobile register and journal.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
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BY H. WILDE. There's Il tnnefnl river,

 In Erin's Isle,

 Where the sun-beams quiver,

 In silvery smile;

 Where ihe leaves that fall

 Meath the autumn sky, ,.-.. Grow gem like all,

 And never die; And such is the stream, by truth enlightened, That leaves the breast by wisdom frightened, Where even the joys that storms discover Are turned to gems that glow forever. There's darkling tide

 In the Indian cline,

 By whose herbess side

 There's sulphry slime To the flowers that il tJuches

 scorching wave To the bird that approaches,

 weliering grave. And such are ihe waters of bitterness rising. In the desert bosom of dark disgusting; And the birds of joy, and flowers of feeling, Must perish wher'er that wave is stealing.