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Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886

"Or, Humors on the Border; A story of the Old Virginia Frontier"

They thought so at least, as they sat under a large oak, and
he read to her, with shadowy, loving eyes, nearly full of happy tears,
old songs, that 'dallied with the innocence of love, like the old
age.' And so the evening went into the west, and they returned,
and all the night and long days afterward her smile shone on him,
brightening his life as it does now."
Who laughs? Is it at Verty going along with drooping forehead, and
deep sighs; or at the unappreciated great poet, whose prose-strains we
have recorded? Well, friends, perhaps you have reason. Therefore,
let us unite our voices in one great burst of "inextinguishable
laughter"--as of the gods on Mount Olympus--raised very high above the
world!
Let us rejoice that we have become more rational, and discarded
all that folly, and are busying ourselves with rational
affairs--Wall-street, and cent per cent. and dividends. Having
become men, we have put away childish things, and among them, the
encumbrances of a heart. Who would have one? It makes you dream on
autumn days, when the fair sunlight streams upon the sails which waft
the argosies of commerce to your warehouse;--it almost leads you to
believe that stocks are not the one thing to be thought of on this
earth--that all the hurrying bustle of existence is of doubtful
weight, compared with the treasures of that memory which leads us back
to boyhood and its innocent illusions.


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