﻿Memoir 
  of 
  the 
  Author. 
  ix 
  

  

  were 
  made 
  with 
  Dr. 
  Craven 
  were 
  revoked, 
  and 
  young 
  Ki- 
  

   RAM 
  placed 
  in 
  a 
  printing 
  office, 
  under 
  John 
  Spellman, 
  Esq., 
  

   then 
  editor 
  and 
  proprietor 
  of 
  the 
  New 
  Berne 
  Commercial. 
  

   This 
  action 
  was 
  vehemently 
  opposed 
  by 
  his 
  relatives 
  and 
  

   friends, 
  but 
  without 
  avail. 
  And 
  surely 
  there 
  was 
  no 
  sound 
  

   reason 
  for 
  such 
  extraordinary 
  conduct 
  on 
  the 
  part 
  of 
  his 
  

   guardian, 
  as 
  by 
  will 
  his 
  father 
  had 
  mnde 
  ample 
  provision 
  

   for 
  his 
  maintenance 
  and 
  schooling. 
  It 
  was 
  a 
  mean 
  disre- 
  

   gard 
  of 
  the 
  expreised 
  and 
  well-known 
  wishes 
  of 
  his 
  father 
  

   Nevertheless, 
  although 
  he 
  was 
  obliged 
  to 
  forego 
  a 
  collegiate 
  

   course, 
  he 
  never 
  lost 
  his 
  love 
  of 
  knowledge 
  and 
  availed 
  him- 
  

   self 
  of 
  every 
  opportunity 
  to 
  gratify 
  and 
  improve 
  it. 
  He 
  

   was 
  a 
  close 
  reader, 
  and 
  manifested 
  decided 
  taste 
  and 
  ability 
  

   for 
  literary 
  pursuits. 
  At 
  the 
  age 
  of 
  19 
  he 
  wrote 
  a 
  poem, 
  

   entitled 
  "The 
  Sea 
  of 
  Life," 
  which 
  was 
  extensively 
  published 
  

   both 
  north 
  and 
  south; 
  from 
  which 
  we 
  make 
  the 
  following 
  

   extract: 
  

  

  "Oh, 
  sea 
  of 
  life, 
  what 
  complex 
  billows 
  rise 
  

   Upon 
  thy 
  bosom, 
  ever 
  frauglit 
  with 
  songs 
  and 
  sighs, 
  

   How 
  oft 
  bright, 
  fickle 
  sunbeams 
  tremble 
  on 
  the 
  wave 
  

   Which 
  murmur's 
  o'er 
  Hope's 
  early 
  melancholy 
  grave 
  ! 
  

  

  How 
  oft 
  the 
  sweetest 
  warbler, 
  thro' 
  springtime's 
  subtle 
  charms 
  

   And 
  over- 
  venturous 
  wing, 
  is 
  caught 
  amid 
  the 
  storms 
  

   That 
  sweep 
  life's 
  little 
  sea. 
  Ah, 
  evermore 
  

   Its 
  tender 
  bones 
  lie 
  bleeching 
  on 
  the 
  shore. 
  

  

  Just 
  as 
  the 
  beams 
  of 
  Hope 
  in 
  rapture 
  kiss 
  the 
  wave 
  

   The 
  requiem 
  of 
  Despair 
  floats 
  o'er 
  a 
  coral 
  grave 
  ! 
  

   Where'er 
  the 
  tender 
  buds 
  in 
  richest 
  beauty 
  ope' 
  

   We 
  find 
  the 
  drooping, 
  wither'd 
  leaves 
  of 
  dying 
  hope 
  ! 
  

  

  To 
  love 
  — 
  oh 
  spell 
  divine 
  — 
  youth's 
  halcyon 
  dream; 
  

   Could 
  we 
  but 
  always 
  "wake 
  and 
  find 
  things 
  what 
  they 
  seem 
  

   'Twould 
  extract 
  from 
  each 
  wave 
  its 
  poignant, 
  bitter 
  spray. 
  

   As 
  o'er 
  the 
  sea 
  of 
  life 
  our 
  spirits 
  glide 
  away. 
  

  

  A 
  dear, 
  impassioned 
  look, 
  and 
  tender 
  words 
  and 
  tears 
  

  

  Well 
  up 
  within 
  the 
  soul 
  thro' 
  long 
  and 
  weary 
  years; 
  

  

  These, 
  treasured 
  up 
  in 
  memory's 
  casket 
  fair, 
  

  

  Through 
  dreamy 
  spirit-eyes, 
  are 
  smiling 
  on 
  us 
  there 
  ! 
  

  

  And 
  teach 
  us 
  that 
  when 
  we 
  have 
  passed 
  thro' 
  Death's 
  cold 
  gloom 
  

  

  The 
  drooping 
  buds 
  of 
  love 
  and 
  hope 
  shall 
  wear 
  eternal 
  bloom. 
  " 
  

  

  The 
  spirit-wail 
  over 
  the 
  one 
  great 
  misfortune 
  of 
  his 
  life 
  ! 
  

  

  re. 
  

  

  