THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER: DEVOTED TO EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS. Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu’au gré des vents. _Crebillon’s Electre_. As _we_ will, and not as the winds will. RICHMOND: T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. 1835-6. {733} SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. VOL. II. RICHMOND, NOVEMBER, 1836. NO. XII. T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. STANZAS. BY MRS. E. F. ELLET. Would’st thou know, stranger, wherefore the vain cares, And envious strifes, and ills of this sad world Vex not my thoughts serene, Nor fright my peace of soul? Wherefore its wild commotions fret me not, And the vain pageants of its summer smile, (More fleeting than the light) Nor dazzle, nor distract? It is not that a swelling pride doth lift My spirit ’bove the reach of changeful Fate, Or shield me from the ills To mortal lot assigned; Or teach me with a scorn unwise to turn From good on all bestowed, the boon of Heaven:— ’Tis not that spells I bear By stern cold Reason wrought:— But in my spirit’s inmost treasure-house There is a blessed world, from evil free, Nor wearying cares come nigh The chambers of the soul! In this fair home hath Thought her palace reared, And planted living flowers; there flow the springs Of Fancy, pure and bright, In sweet rejoicing streams. There bends the golden heaven of Poesy, With gladdening sunlight fraught; there blandest airs Breathe o’er the fragrant soil, And palmy groves ascend. Thus is it that Life’s clamors and complaints, And idle vaunts, unheeded pass me by, Like the dull streamlet’s voice, Or inarticulate wind. Amid the jarring storm’s discordant strife, O, searcher after rest! may’st thou too hear That mightier melody From chords attuned of Heaven! MODERN TRAVELLING. Forty years ago, I used to be a great traveller, and was pretty well acquainted with the means of transportation then in use; but about that time, I retired to the country and settled upon a small farm, where I have, until lately, pursued the even tenor of my way. During the last summer, some business compelled me to set out for a distant point, and I left my little home with extreme reluctance. As I was to travel in a world about which I knew but little, except through the newspapers, I thought it right to rig myself out in somewhat better style than usual, so I put on my best _bib_ and _tucker_ and repaired to town and sought a barber’s shop to get my hair cut and my beard shaved, humming, as I went along, the old song,