Though in distant lands we sigh,
Parched beneath a hostile sky;
Though the deep between us rolls,
Friendship shall unite our souls;
Long may this loved bower remain;
Here may we three meet again.
When the dreams of life have fled;
When its wasted lamp is dead;
When in cold oblivion’s shade,
Beauty, wealth and power are laid;
Where immortal spirits reign,
There may we three meet again.
They soon departed for their respective countries, and never met again! Alas!
“The human heart, like the muffled drum,
Is ever beating funeral marches to the grave!”
Wanted—Temperate, energetic, and impulsive young men to canvass the city for the Alligator, who can be carriers on those routes where they obtain subscribers. There are thousands of masters and misses, and fathers and mothers, and grandfathers and grandmothers who will take the Alligator. So, young men, off with your coats, and fly through the city like a tornado, for subscribers to the Alligator. And first visit the Astor, Saint Nicholas, Metropolitan, Lafarge, Everett, and other splendid Restaurants and Oyster Saloons, not one of whose proprietors will refuse the Alligator. But if they should, just let us know, and we may, in our wrath, blight their custom with our fatal jaw. And visit the Reverend Doctors Potts and Taylor, and see Brown, the fancy Sexton, and ask the loan of his magic whistle, which will guide you to victory like a wand of enchantment. If Potts and Taylor salute you like Diogenes, and Brown declines his festive and mausoleum whistle, we may haunt them with a peep through their private windows on the first dark and boisterous midnight. So, boys, look aloft, and arouse yourselves, and select your own routes without our consultation, until you desire our Alligators to serve your ecstatic patrons.
The following was written, in 1854, by Stephen H. Branch, for Ald. Orison Blunt, then Alderman of the Third Ward, but is now Supervisor from the Fifteenth Ward:
Captain Robert Creighton: Sir: I am authorized by the Corporation of the City of New York to extend to you the Freedom of the City, together with a gold box, as a testimonial of their regard for you. I might linger on the thrilling incidents connected with your fidelity to suffering humanity, from the moment you discovered the San Francisco, until you rescued from a watery grave, more than 200 distracted beings. I might touchingly allude to your tears from day to day, as witnessed by your sailors, because you could not sooner relieve the unfortunate. I might speak of the fearful responsibility you assumed in violating the insurance of your ship and valuable cargo, by deviating from your specific course; of your fearful perils amid the howling tempest; of the four inch stream of water pouring in upon you, which caused both pumps to be constantly wrought before you discovered the wreck; of the disadvantages of four hundred tons of iron, and large quantities of merchandise, in a ship of only seven hundred tons burthen; of the loss of every sail before you saw the wreck, save your foresail and mainsail. I might dwell on these historical truths, and on your affectionate regard for the rescued, but I forbear. All this, and even more, is on every tongue, and uttered around every fireside, and cannot be glorified by me. The contemplation of the good you have effected will ever be a delightful solace to you, and your humanity will be a precious inheritance to your consanguinity. The wives and children of those whose lives you have preserved will ever love you, and transmit your name to their farthest posterity. The mariners of every ocean will strive to imitate your meritorious example. The noble youth of our country will read of your heroic deeds, and resolve to emulate your manly virtues. Little children already lisp your name in terms of praise. Tears of gratitude are freely shed for you by either sex, and fervent prayers go up to Heaven from the habitations of all this land, that your valuable life may be long preserved, and that health, happiness, and prosperity may ever be your lot. And your name will be revered by coming generations, when every being who beholds the sun of this day, shall be a tenant of the tomb!