The good resulting from a general intercommunication of thought among the people has brought about a great reduction in the rates of postage. We look forward to the time when the tens of millions now expended in war, and invested in the ammunition of death, shall be directed into other channels, and postage shall be free. What better defence for our nation than education? It is better than forts and vessels of war; better than murderous guns, powder and ball. Hail to the day when there shall be no direct tax on the means of education!
A VISION OF REALITY.
I HAD a dream: Methought one came
And bade me with him go;
I followed, till, above the world,
I wondering gazed below.
One moment, horror filled my breast;
Then, shrinking from the sight,
I turned aside, and sought for rest,
Half dying with affright.
My guide with zeal still urged me on;
"See, see!" said he, "what sin hath done;
How mad ambition fills each breast,
And mortals spurn their needed rest,
And all their lives and fortunes spend
To gain some darling, wished-for end;
And scarce they see the long-sought prize,
When each to grasp it fails and dies."
Once more I looked: in a lonely room,
On a pallet of straw, were lying
A mother and child; no friends were near,
Yet that mother and child were dying.
A sigh arose; she looked above,
And she breathed forth, "I forgive;"
She kissed her child, threw back her head,
And the mother ceased to live.
The child's blue eyes were raised to watch
Its mother's smile of love;
She was not there,—her child she saw
From her spirit-home above.
An hour passed by: that child had gone
From earth and all its harms;
Yet, as in sleep, it nestling lay
In its dead mother's arms.
I asked my guide, "What doth this mean?"
He spake not a word, but changed the scene.
I stood where the busy throng
Was hurrying by; all seemed intent,
As on some weighty mission sent;
And, as I asked what all this meant,
A drunkard pass‚d by.
He spake,—I listened; thus spake he:
"Rum, thou hast been a curse to me;
My wife is dead,—my darling child,
Who, when 't was born, so sweetly smiled,
And seemed to ask, in speechless prayer,
A father's love, a father's care,—
He, he, too, now is gone!
How can I any longer live?
What joy to me can earth now give?
I've drank full deep from sorrow's cup,—
When shall I drink its last dregs up?
When will the last, last pang be felt?
When the last blow on me be dealt?
Would I had ne'er been born!"
As thus he spake, a gilded coach
In splendor pass‚d by;
And from within a man looked forth,—
The drunkard caught his eye.
Then, with a wild and frenzied look,
He, trembling, to it ran;
He stayed the rich man's carriage there,
And said, "Thou art the man!
"Yes, thou the man! You bade me come,
You took my gold, you gave me rum;
You bade me in the gutter lie,
My wife and child you caused to die;
You took their bread,—'t was justly theirs;
You, cunning, laid round me your snares,
Till I fell in them; then you crushed,
And robbed me, as my cries you hushed;
You've bound me close in misery's thrall;
Now, take a drunkard's curse and fall!"
A moment passed, and all was o'er,—
He who'd sold rum would sell no more
And Justice seemed on earth to dwell,
When by his victim's hand he fell.
Yet, when the trial came, she fled,
And Law would have the avenger dead.
The gilded coach may rattle by,
Men too may drink, and drunkards die,
And widows' tears may daily fall,
And orphans' voices daily call,—
Yet these are all in vain;
The dealer sells, and glass by glass
He tempts the man to ruin pass,
And piles on high his slain.
His fellows fall by scores,—what then?
He, being rich (though rich by fraud),
Is honored by his fellow-men,
Who bend the knee and call him "lord."
Again I turned;
Enough I'd learned
Of all the misery sin hath brought;
I strove to leave the fearful spot,
And wished the scene might be forgot,
'T was so with terror fraught.
I wished to go,
No more to know.
I turned me, but no guide stood there;
Alone, I shrieked in wild dismay,
When, lo! the vision passed away,—
I found me seated in my chair.
The morning sun was shining bright,
Fair children gambolled in my sight;
A rose-bush in my window stood,
And shed its fragrance all around;
My eye saw naught but fair and good,
My ear heard naught but joyous sound.
I asked me, can it be on earth
Such scenes of horror have their birth,
As those that in my vision past,
And on my mind their shadows cast?
Can it be true, that men do pour
Foul poison forth for sake of gold?
And men lie weltering in their gore,
Led on by that their brethren sold?
Doth man so bend the supple knee
To Mammon's shrine, he never hears
The voice of conscience, nor doth see
His ruin in the wealth he rears?
Such questions it were vain to ask,
For Reason whispers, "It is so;"
While some in fortune's sunshine bask,
Others lie crushed beneath their woe.
And men do sell, and men do pour,
And for their gold return men death;
Though wives and children them implore,
With tearful eyes and trembling breath,
And hearts with direst anguish riven,
No more to sell,—'t is all in vain;
They, urged to death, by avarice driven,
But laugh and turn to sell again.
JEWELS OF THE HEART.
THERE are jewels brighter far
Than the sparkling diamonds are;
Jewels never wrought by art,—
Nature forms them in the heart!
Would ye know the names they hold
Ah! they never can be told
In the language mortals speak!
Human words are far too weak
Yet, if you would really know
What these jewels are, then go
To some low, secluded cot,
Where the poor man bears his lot!
Or, to where the sick and dying
'Neath the ills of life are sighing.
And if there some one ye see
Striving long and patiently
To alleviate the pain,
Bring the light of hope again!
One whose feet do lightly tread,
One whose hands do raise the head,
One who watches there alone,
Every motion, every tone;
Unaware an eye doth see
All these acts of charity.
Know that in that lonely cot,
Where the wealth of earth is not,
These bright jewels will be found,
Shedding love and light around!
Say, shall gems and rubies rare
With these heart-shrined gems compare?
Constancy, that will not perish,
But the thing it loveth cherish,
Clinging to it fondly ever,
Fainting, faltering, wavering, never!
Trust, that will not harbor doubt;
Putting fear and shame to rout,
Making known how, free from harm,
Love may rest upon its arm.
Hope, that makes the future bright,
Though there come a darksome night;
And, though dark despair seems nigh,
Bears the soul up manfully!
These are gems that brighter shine
Than they of Golconda's mine.
Born amid love's fond caresses,
Cradled in the heart's recesses,
They will live when earth is old,
Marble crumble, perish gold!
Live when ages shall have past,
While eternity shall last;
Be these gems the wealth you share,
Friends of mind, where'er you are!