You are here
قراءة كتاب The Knickerbocker, Vol. 10, No. 2, August 1837
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
the source of those great eras in human affairs, where the mighty intellect of one man has changed the moral and political condition of nations, perhaps of the world. Above nature's aristocracy, but with their confidence and approbation, this gifted order of men pursue the greatest good with the greatest energy—accomplish the noblest ends, by the noblest means. They belong to nature's high nobility. Human and mortal though they be, yet are they the peers of angels, and second only to the gods!
There was a man among my countrymen, who, whenever he appeared upon the theatre of human affairs, was always excellently great. He exhibited anger only in the form of virtuous indignation, and severity only in the cause of truth and virtue. The warrant of execution passed from his hand bedewed with his tears; and in the foeman whom he slew, would be found only the enemy of human happiness. He laid the foundation of a vast empire of freemen; he guided the reins of government with noble disinterestedness and virtue; he yielded them gladly to his successor, and with the blessings of millions, went into honorable retirement. Whether in emotion, thought or action, who has known one so pure, so great, and good? A distinguished British peer said of him, that 'he was the only human being, for whom he felt an awful reverence.'
Washington was, indeed, the highest of the nobility of nature.
EMBLEMS.
I.
His last red glance is cast abroad on the green upland side;
I ask not why his radiant glow stays not to bless my sight,
Or why his yellow beams should sink behind the pall of night:
Day, night, and morn must come and go, along the changing sky,
With shadow and with grateful light, to cheer the wakening eye;
It is the change which makes them blest; all hold a tranquil power,
Whether 'tis morning's orient gleam, or evening's solemn hour.
II.
Over the heaving tide of life, whose wrecks but bubbles are;
And though the light of Joy be dim—though Hope's warm dream hath fled,
Though the deep wind hath mournful tones along the slumbering dead,
Still let thy spirit look abroad, and onward to the rest,
Which comes as twilight shadows steal across earth's verdant breast;
And chastened in the night of ill, amid its shadowed gloom,
Look to the holy morn which breaks the darkness of the tomb!
Philadelphia,
W. G. C.
STANZAS.
'There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground, yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant. But man dieth and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?
Job.
I.
Journeying through a shadowy span;
Fresh with health to-day—to-morrow
Cold and lifeless!—such is man.
Scarce produced to light, ere dying—
Like the fancied vision flying;
Scarcely budding forth, when blighted
'Dust to dust' again united!
II.
Lightly laughs the morning beam;
Sweetly breathes the flowret, blowing,
Deeply rolls the mountain stream:
But the heavenly bow hath faded,
And the morning beam is shaded;
And to earth the flower hath hasted,
And the mountain stream is wasted.
III.
Ever in Destruction's chain;
Though the flowers may fade, they die not—
Spring shall wake their buds again:
Morning's smile again shall brighten,
And the storm the rainbow lighten;
And the torrent (summer finished,)
Roll its waters undiminished.
IV.
Moulders in the silent grave:
Of the friends who were around him,
None to succor, none to save!
Then when night and gloom assail thee,
And thy strength and glory fail thee,
And thy boasted beauty waneth,
Cold—in darkness—what remaineth?
V.
Mid these scenes of deepest gloom;
'Tis our 'hope in Christ' defends us
From the terrors of the tomb.
When we leave this vale of sadness,
'Tis to share unmingled gladness:
O the happy, happy greeting—
Jesus and our friends then meeting!
J. F. H.
NOTES OF A SURGEON.[1]
NUMBER ONE.
THE DISLOCATION.
The reduction of a dislocated limb, in a person of muscular frame, is one of the most fearful and difficult operations in surgery; and in a lad or a female, there is much in the attending circumstances to excite the liveliest interest of the spectator. To hear the bone click, as it returns to its place; to behold the relief which is instantly experienced; the happiness so vividly depicted in the countenance; the inclination to immediate repose—every feather seeming to be a pillow to some over-strained and exhausted muscle—one cannot help cordially uniting in the feelings of the restored sufferer; nor can he restrain the smile