Read Ebook: Kentucky in American Letters 1784-1912. Vol. 1 of 2 by Townsend John Wilson Allen James Lane Author Of Introduction Etc

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nati paper his account of the late elections in Kentucky. The production may be viewed as a fair specimen of his "fine literature, his drollery, strong powers of sarcasm," and, above all, his "poetical capacity." The respect and attachment he displays toward Kentucky , must be exquisitely gratifying to the respectable portion of Mr. Clay's friends in this city. To them we commend the letter of Mr. Prentice as an erudite, chaste, and veritable production, worthy of the "great editor" who is hereafter to figure as Mr. Clay's champion in the West. We may, moreover, congratulate them in consequence of the fair prospect before them; for with the aid of such an editor they cannot fail to effect miraculous revolutions or revulsions in the political world. The occupants of all our fish markets will be confirmed in their devotion to the opposition beyond redemption.

WILLIAM O. BUTLER

"Halcyon prophecies come to pass In the haunts of the bream and bass;"

and if the song of Butler, the soldier-poet of Kentucky--

"Oh, boatman, wind that horn again! For never did the joyous air Upon its lambent bosom bear So wild, so soft, so sweet a strain"--

THE BOATMAN'S HORN

Delighted, Nature drank the sound, Enchanted, Echo bore it round In whispers soft and softer still, From hill to plain and plain to hill, Till e'en the thoughtless frolic boy, Elate with hope and wild with joy, Who gambolled by the river's side And sported with the fretting tide, Feels something new pervade his breast, Change his light steps, repress his jest, Bends o'er the flood his eager ear, To catch the sounds far off, yet dear-- Drinks the sweet draught, but knows not why The tear of rapture fills his eye. And can he now, to manhood grown, Tell why those notes, simple and lone, As on the ravished ear they fell, Bind every sense in magic spell?

There is a tide of feeling given To all on earth, its fountains, heaven, Beginning with the dewy flower, Just ope'd in Flora's vernal bower, Rising creation's orders through, With louder murmur, brighter hue-- That tide is sympathy! its ebb and flow Give life its hue, its joy, and woe.

Music, the master-spirit that can move Its waves to war, or lull them into love-- Can cheer the sinking sailor 'mid the wave, And bid the warrior on! nor fear the grave, Inspire the fainting pilgrim on the road, And elevate his soul to claim his God.

Then, boatman, wind that horn again! Though much of sorrow mark its strain, Yet are its notes to sorrow dear; What though they wake fond memory's tear? Tears are sad memory's sacred feast, And rapture oft her chosen guest.

HEW AINSLIE

THE BOUROCKS O' BARGENY

I left ye, Jeanie, blooming fair, 'Mang the bourocks o' Bargeny; I've found ye on the banks o' Ayr, But sair ye're altered, Jeanie.

I left ye 'mang the woods sae green, In rustic weed befitting; I've found ye buskit like a queen, In painted chaumbers sitting.

I left ye like the wanton lamb That plays 'mang Hadyed's heather; I've found ye noo a sober dame, A wife and eke a mither.

Ye're fairer, statelier, I can see, Ye're wiser, nae dou't, Jeanie; But ah! I'd rather met wi' thee 'Mang the bourocks o' Bargeny.

THE HAUGHS O' AULD KENTUCK

Welcome, Edie, owre the sea, Welcome to this lan' an' me, Welcome from the warl' whaur we Hae whistled owre the lave o't.

Come, gie your banes anither hitch, Up Hudson's stream, thro' Clinton's ditch, An' see our watlin meadows rich Wi' corn an' a' the lave o't.

We've hizzie here baith swank and sweet An' birkies here that can stan' a heat O' barley bree, or aqua vit Syne whistle owre the lave o't.

Gude kens, I want nae better luck Than just to see ye, like a buck, Spanking the haughs o' auld Kentuck, An' whistling owre the lave o't.

THE INGLE SIDE

It's rare to see the morning bleeze, Like a bonfire frae the sea; It's fair to see the burnie kiss The lip o' the flowery lea; An' fine it is on green hillside, When hums the hinny bee; But rarer, fairer, finer far, Is the ingle side to me.

Glens may be gilt wi' gowans rare The birds may fill the tree, An' haughs hae a' the scented ware That simmer's growth can gie; But the canty hearth where cronies meet, An' the darling o' our e'e-- That makes to us a warl' complete, Oh! the ingle side for me.

THE HINT O' HAIRST

It's dowie in the hint o' hairst, At the wa'-gang o' the swallow, When the wind blows cauld an' the burns grow bauld, An' the wuds are hingin' yellow; But oh! it's dowier far to see The deid-set o' a shining e'e That darkens the weary warld on thee.

There was muckle love atween us twa-- Oh! twa could ne'er been fonder; An' the thing on yird was never made That could hae gart us sunder. But the way of Heaven's aboon a' ken, And we maun bear what it likes to sen'-- It's comfort, though, to weary men, That the warst o' this warld's waes maun en'.

There's mony things that come and gae, Just kent and syne forgotten; The flow'rs that busk a bonnie brae Gin anither year lie rotten. But the last look o' that lovin' e'e, An' the dying grip she gied to me, They're settled like eternitie-- O Mary! that I were with thee.

JAMES G. BIRNEY

THE NO-GOVERNMENT DOCTRINES

It is but justice to say--judging from the moral deportment of the adherents of the "No-Government" scheme--that so far from admitting, what I have supposed to be, its legitimate consequences, they would wholly deny and repudiate them.

THOMAS CORWIN

Thomas Corwin, witty, delightful "Tom" Corwin, was born near Paris, Kentucky, July 29, 1794. Before he was five years old, his father had taken him into the wilds of Ohio, the Lebanon of today. "Tom" Corwin was admitted to the bar, in 1818, after a slender education and a brief reading of the law. His wit and eloquence made his reputation rapidly and, in 1830, he found himself in the lower House of Congress. The whole country laughed at his inimitable speeches; and that he had a strong hold on the Ohio Whigs is certain as they returned him to the House for ten years. In 1840 Corwin was elected governor of Ohio, after a brilliant and successful state-wide campaign. He was incomparable on the stump, and he rode into the gubernatorial chair on an overwhelming Whig tide. Two years later, however, his former opponent, Wilson Shannon, defeated him for re?lection. In 1844 Corwin was sent to the United States Senate, in which body he renewed his House reputation as an orator. On the eve of the Mexican War, he made his memorable anti-war speech, which practically ruined his future political career, as the country desired to fight the hated men on the border. But a more bravely beautiful speech was never made. President Fillmore chose Corwin his Secretary of the Treasury, in 1850. At the expiration of Fillmore's term, Corwin returned to the practice of law at Lebanon, Ohio. In 1858 he re?ntered public life, serving a term in Congress; and, in 1861, President Lincoln appointed him minister to Mexico. Corwin remained in Mexico until the coming of Maximilian, when he returned to Washington to practice law. In the capital of the country he died, December 18, 1865. "Tom" Corwin was one of the most captivating of American orators, and most lovable of men.

Mr. President, this uneasy desire to augment our territory has depraved the moral sense and blunted the otherwise keen sagacity of our people. What has been the fate of all nations who have acted upon the idea that they must advance! Our young orators cherish this notion with a fervid but fatally mistaken zeal. They call it by the mysterious name of "destiny." "Our destiny," they say, is "onward," and hence they argue, with ready sophistry, the propriety of seizing upon any territory and any people that may lie in the way of our "fated" advance. Recently these progressives have grown classical; some assiduous student of antiquities has helped them to a patron saint. They have wandered back into the desolated Pantheon, and there, among the polytheistic relics of that "pale mother of dead empires," they have found a god whom these Romans, centuries gone by, baptized "Terminus."

Sir, I have heard much and read somewhat of this gentleman Terminus. Alexander, of whom I have spoken, was a devotee of this divinity. We have seen the end of him and his empire. It was said to be an attribute of this god that he must always advance and never recede. So both republican and imperial Rome believed. It was, as they say, their destiny. And for a while it did seem to be even so. Roman Terminus did advance. Under the eagles of Rome he was carried from his home on the Tiber to the farthest East on the one hand, and to the far West, among the then barbarous tribes of western Europe, on the other.

Such will find that Rome thought as you now think, that it was her destiny to conquer provinces and nations, and no doubt she sometimes said, as you say, "I will conquer a peace," and where now is she, the mistress of the world? The spider weaves his web in her palaces, the owl sings his watch-song in her towers. Teutonic power now lords it over the servile remnant, the miserable memento of old and once omnipotent Rome. Sad, very sad, are the lessons which time has written for us. Through and in them all I see nothing but the inflexible execution of that old law which ordains as eternal that cardinal rule, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods, nor anything which is his." Since I have lately heard so much about the dismemberment of Mexico I have looked back to see how, in the course of events, which some call "Providence," it has fared with other nations who engaged in this work of dismemberment. I see that in the latter half of the eighteenth century three powerful nations, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, united in the dismemberment of Poland. They said, too, as you say, "It is our destiny." They "wanted room." Doubtless each of these thought, with his share of Poland, his power was too strong ever to fear invasion, or even insult. One had his California, another his New Mexico, and the third his Vera Cruz. Did they remain untouched and incapable of harm? Alas! no--far, very far, from it. Retributive justice must fulfill its destiny, too.

HENRY B. BASCOM

A CLERGYMAN'S VIEW OF NIAGARA

I have already mentioned, and it is important that you keep it in view, the ledge of rock, the verge of the cataract, rising like a wall of equal height, and extending in semicircular form across the whole bed of the river, a distance of more than two thousand feet; and the impetuous flood, conforming to this arrangement, in making its plunge, with mountain weight, into the great horseshoe basin beneath, exhibits a spectacle of the sublime, in geographical scenery, without, perhaps, a parallel in nature. As I leaned from "Table Rock," and cast my eye downward upon the billowy turbulence of the angry depth, where the waters were tossing and whirling, coiling and springing, with the energy of an earthquake, and a rapidity that almost mocked my vision, I found the scene sufficient to appal a sterner spirit than mine; and I was glad to turn away and relieve my mind by a sight of the surrounding scenery; bays, islands, shores, and forests, everywhere receding in due perspective. The rainbows of the "crescent" and American side, which are only visible from the western bank of the Niagara, and in the afternoon, seem to diminish somewhat from the awfulness of the scene, and to give it an aspect of rich and mellow grandeur, not unlike the bow of promise, throwing its assuring radiance over the retiring waters of the deluge.

JAMES T. MOREHEAD

JOHN FINLEY

The first successful attempt to explore the Kentucky country was made by John Finley, a backwoodsman of North Carolina, in 1767. He was attended by a few companions, as adventurous as himself, whose names have escaped the notice of history. They were evidently a party of hunters, and were prompted to the bold and hazardous undertaking, for the purpose of indulging in their favorite pursuits. Of Finley and his comrades, and of the course and extent of their journey, little is now known. That they were of the pure blood, and endowed with the genuine qualities, of the pioneers, is manifestly undeniable. That they passed over the Cumberland, and through the intermediate country to the Kentucky river, and penetrated the beautiful valley of the Elkhorn, there are no sufficient reasons to doubt. It is enough, however, to embalm their memory in our hearts, and to connect their names with the imperishable memorials of our early history, that they were the first adventurers that plunged into the dark and enchanted wilderness of Kentucky--that of all their contemporaries they saw her first--and saw her in the pride of her virgin beauty--at the dawn of summer--in the fullness of her vegetation--her soil, instinct with fertility, covered with the most luxuriant verdure--the air perfumed with the fragrance of flowers, and her tall forests looming in all their primeval magnificence.

How long Finley lived, or where he died, the silence of history does not enable us to know. That his remains are now mingled with the soil that he discovered, there is some reason to hope, for he conducted Boone to Kentucky in 1769--and there the curtain drops upon him forever. It is fit it should be raised. It is fit that justice, late and tardy that it be, should be done to the memory of the first of the pioneers. And what can be more appropriate, than that the first movement should be made for the performance of such a duty, on the day of the commemoration of the discovery and settlement of the Commonwealth?

FOOTNOTE:

LEWIS COLLINS

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION

Serious obstacles have been encountered in the preparation of the Biographical Sketches. Many of those which appear in the work, were prepared from the personal recollections of the Author; while others have been omitted because he did not know to whom he could apply for them, or having applied, and in some instances repeatedly, failed in procuring them. This is his apology for the non-appearance of many names in that department which are entitled to a distinguished place in the annals of Kentucky.

In the preparation of the work, one design of the Author has been to preserve, in a durable form, those rich fragments of local and personal history, many of which exist, at present, only in the ephemeral form of oral tradition, or are treasured up among the recollections of the aged actors in the stirring scenes, the memory of which is thus perpetuated. These venerable witnesses from a former age, are rapidly passing away from our midst, and with them will be buried the knowledge of much that is most interesting in the primitive history of the commonwealth. It is from sources such as we have mentioned, that the materials for the future historian are to be drawn; and, like the scattered leaves of the Sybil, these frail mementos of the past should be gathered up and preserved with religious veneration. If the Author shall have succeeded, in thus redeeming from oblivion any considerable or important portion of the early history of the State, his design will be fully accomplished, and his labor amply rewarded.

Of all the members of this great republican confederacy, there is none whose history is more rich in the variety, quality, and interest of its materials. The poet, the warrior, and the statesman, can each find subjects, the contemplation of which will instruct him in his art; and to the general reader, it would, perhaps, be impossible to present a field of more varied and attractive interest.

JULIA A. TEVIS

BIBLIOGRAPHY. The chief authority for the facts of Mrs. Tevis's life is, of course, her autobiography; Annual Catalogues of Science Hill.

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