A PREJUDICE.
They say that we're short on a national song;
They're calling on genius to hustle
An' make up a piece that'll startle the throng
An' give the old-timers a tussle.
I reckon our folks must be clean out o' date—
That is, if we're jedged by the manner
In which we're accustomed to all congregate
A-singin' "The Star-Spangled Banner."
"Oh, long may it wave!" When we git to that part
There's somethin' more to it than singin'.
It's a prayer that devoutly goes forth from each heart
As the chorus is risin' and ringin'.
So mother an' me an' the gals an' the boys
Gathers 'round our old-fashioned pianner,
And whatever of talent each has he employs
A-singin' "The Star-Spangled Banner."
The source of the tune doesn't worry me none.
I never ask, "Where did they git it?"
It was destiny if, when the writin' got done,
The music was waitin' to fit it.
An' I feel that it echoes from sea unto sea
Whenever our youngest—that's Hanner—
Strikes a chord deep and full so's to give us the key,
An' we jine in "The Star-Spangled Banner."
NIGHT AND DEATH.
By JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE.[B]
Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew
Thee from report divine, and heard thy name,
Did he not tremble for this lovely frame,
This glorious canopy of light and blue?
Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew,
Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame,
Hesperus with the host of heaven came,
And lo! Creation widened in man's view.
Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed
Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find,
Whilst flow'r and leaf and insect stood revealed,
That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind!
Why do we then shun death with anxious strife?
If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life?
[B] Joseph Blanco White became a lasting name in literature by virtue of fourteen lines. His sonnet to Night, sometimes known as "Night and Death," was spoken of by Coleridge as "the finest and most grandly conceived sonnet in our language." Leigh Hunt said of it that in point of thought it "stands supreme, perhaps, above all in any language; nor can we ponder it too deeply, or with too hopeful a reverence."
Yet White wrote nothing else that long outlived him. His genius was golden, but it seems to have been a pocket, not a vein; or shall we say that he compressed into a single sonnet the resources which another would have spread over many? At least we may thank him for this that he has left us.
A few words as to the man himself: He was born at Seville, Spain, July 11, 1775; was educated for the priesthood; went to England, where he entered the Established Church and gained the friendship of such men as Newman, Arnold, and Whately; became a Unitarian; and died at Liverpool, May 20, 1841. He wrote several books on religious questions. "To Death" appeared first in the Bijou, in 1828, and next in The Gentleman's Magazine for May, 1835.
The Beginnings of Stage Careers.
By MATTHEW WHITE, Jr.
A Series of Papers That Will Be Continued From Month to Month
and Include All the Most Prominent Players