Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/301

62

SONG. BY ALEXANDER A, IRVINE.

I saw her glide before me, ‘Tho wonder of a dream—

A flower gently waving Upon a flowing atream—

Her ev'ry step waa music, She foaed by my sight

A etar in azure sl A atar alone at night!

Her snowy sleeve was open, ‘The white arm partly bare, a 8 No lily lawn of Decean Waa ever balf 0 fair. At ev'ry wanton zephiyt ‘ The sleeve would coyly close, As leaflets shut al even ‘Around the trembling rose.

Her cheek—to’ what compare it! ‘The pink in ocean sheil—+ Her hips—two violets budding Within a virgin dell; ‘Mer yoice—the silver music ‘Of ‘summer gurgling rille, Or bells at even chiming Across the distant hills.

Around her enowy shoulders, ‘Phe golden tresses stray— = Hor dewy eyes off azure Fiplift the soul away, Within their placid earfece A heav'aly glory lice— ‘Oh! T have scen unknowing ‘An angel from the skies.

THE WANDERING THOUGHT.

BY EDWARD J, PURTRR,

Tax: golden sunlight rests upon thy wings,

‘As on the borders of a cloud at even,

Bright, chainless wanderer! and the wreatlis of heaven Fireathe all their raptures, their illuminings; To lave the soul that sent thee brightly forth

‘To gather all of bliss that wakens.there,

‘While hues that unly heavenly regions wear Around thee glisten, joyous in their mirth: — 1 would not sammon back to scenes less bright, ‘The countless yaryings of thy wayward fight! Float on, flat on, like a glad dream of bliss;

‘And win thy chaplets from those spheres above,

‘Whose hues in radiance gleam, in tight and love Unknown to orbs 20 pascionlcss as this.

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GRAY'S FERRY, WITH THE OLD TLOATING BRIDGE.

_ BY PERCIE WU. BELTON.

‘Avas for bye-gone days! The march of improvement is removing, one by one, all the old haunts whither we were wont to resort, and soon there will be no link left to connect us with the past. The destroyer’s hand hae been at work in the home of our childhood. The trees beneath which we played; the old wooden bridge over the stream ; the arbor of trellis work in the garden; the orchard; the shady lane; the antique mill; even the houso in which we were barn, all, all have passed away and are not. But auch is the order of Providence ia this world !

Among the relics is our forefathers which are still left to us, the old Inn at Gray’s Ferry is peculiarly interest ing. The croction dates back beyond tho Revolutionary tim nd even the grcen-house bolongs to the last cen- tury. Here, when our grand sirea wore queues, and their wives sported hoops and high heeled shoes, the denizens of Philadelphia were wont to resort, and many a wintry evening haé this primitive inn reyoundod with mirth and festivity, sure accompaniments of an old fashioned sleighing patty. But these days have gone forever. Of ali the curiosities of the place the old inn alone stands. The floating bridge has disappeared ; the gardens havo been neglected; a moder hotel crowns the rock to the leit; and-only a few aged trees, white with tha mementoes of the past, tell of the former ines: of the place.

The accompanying view is executed from an original pictore, representing the ferry and bridge as they stood, in 1828, ere even a thought of the present improvements had becn entertained. ‘Tho place had then « romantic beauty which it has since fost, The old floating bridge, moreover, was a curiosity. Excepting @ moilern floor ing, it was identically the same structure which the British threw across the Schuylkill river, at Market stroet, when they were in possesion of Philadelphia, At the ferry itself, tho enemy established an outpost, and many are the tales told of the ruthless deeds committed by the soldiery. Some of these have come down to our day, and, at fitting time, we may white away an hour by narrating one or more of them.

The new hotel, erected on the hill to the ‘et of the picture, on the site where a private mansion once stood, has become, of late, as popular as its more humble rival was in the olden time. The now mil-road bridge, over which the Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore rail- roall is catried, crowes the Schuylkill at this point, the western abutment resting on the cliffs that here frown over the river. ‘The scenery, in the vicinity, is lovely and interesting.

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