COLUMBUS, MISSISSIPPI TUEsDNY, DECEMBER J. 1871
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port, the apothegns Of the lyceum and
academy. grew cold anG comfortIess: in
vain he looked back to early enjoyments
or forward to career of distinction.
Such reflections brought no bright images
10 his soul, but came trooping along, like
yhantaSmagoria, vanishing one by one into
deeper shadow.


His mail had been ransackel. There
was nothing TO rouse him up. The slogan
cry Of triumph rang in his ear; but il was
the triumph Of his adversaries. His po-
litical combinations had dwarfed away,
and nine ten,hs ofhis exchanges were fill
ed with attacks upon his fame. HIS fame;
bis character; the sole property ofthe poor
editor, writing for bread! Other men, of
every craft, toll for wealth and honor
the lournalalist alone strives, literally, for
food. No comfortable homestead--no
brad spreading estate is in the dim per-
specive for him orEhis! That first sweet
prayer which we learn to lisp OIL our mo.
theirs knee-Give us this day our daily
bread" is truly his prayer, and is breathed
every morning when rising from his sleep
that sleep, o how seldom visited by
glimpses of sunsh ne and dreams of Joy!
Ahl if the world thought more Of this, an
editor would be seldom attacked. A broad
mantle of charity would cover his sins. AS
things now run, how often is he the target
Of every mans malice; the foot ball ofrib-
aid wit; the shallow pate's gibe; the rich
mons contomely!


Darker came on the night, and the wind
sighed ftfu ly around; the figure at the ta-
bic grew more dim until it faded INTO mere
outline, and lookel like thee, o Poverty!
gaunt and spectral. But the ray of taper
| fell alhwart the chamber, and a gentle
foots;ep was on the STAIR The dreamer
looked up, and vision of hope, and beau.
| ty, and consolation, stood beside him.
There was fathomless depth of love in
the liquid eye that beamed so tenderly up
on him, No smile of jay was on her lip
nor jewelled ornamtnt sparkled on hel
brow; but there was Faith-faith that
triumphs over the gloom of the grave
and like the moonbeams on the ruins ot
some ancient abbey, sheds a soothing light
over the fountains of the wretched! He
gaZe1 upon the vision, and the warm blood
came back into it's forsaken channels.-
His eye grew bright and mis- spirit free
He ou!d breast the surges Of the worlC
with his own stout arm, nor CRY, "Com
help me, Cassus, or | sink"


= -


Was this vision an angel; No hut be
ing of earth, yet scarcely less sainted-hi
first love and his last-the name which
next to that of mother, is dearest and holI
est-the first which we sigh for in hours o
youth; the last that llngers on our dyin


Iips!"