Revolution to Civil War (1800-1870)

Article #57 - Reflecting on the Past


 For the Journall


Who that looks backward on his manhood’s  


Sees not the error of his misspent time

And from the shade of Cypress planted thick


Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind

From his loved dead?


Who would not cast half of his future from him

But to win wakeless oblivion for the wrong

  and sin

Article #55 - The Peace of Europe




    Devoted to Science Literature News &c.


            The Peace of Europe


Great Peace in Europe! order reigns

From Tiber’s hills to Danube’s plains;

So say her kings and priests; So say

The lying prophets of our day.


Go lay to earth a listening ear;

The tramp of measured marches hear,

Article #54 - Undefined Title




            For the Journall [sic]

            Friend Editress


            If I understand the rules of your lyceum all persons wether [sic] members or not have the privilege of writing communications for it, and it is upon these considerations that I consent to send a few lines for the journal.

Article #50 - #53


The following articles, 50-53, are stitched together with thread.




            Let not the Godlike perish within us!


Article #48 - Should Editors use the Plural pronoun in speaking of themselves.


            The Journal

            Published by Pocopson Lyceum

                                    Sunday, May 28th 1854

                                    Jacob T. Stern

                                                Assistant Editor


Should Editors use the Plural pronoun in speaking of themselves. We think they should, and

we will give our reasons.

Article #46 - Discussion of Promoting Knowledge and Improvement



            For the Association                   1851

                        Secretary will please read


Article #44 - On Vain Amusements


 Pocopson Literary Association

                 On Vain Amusements


To me there is nor charm nor joy

            In music’s softest strain,

Nor in the wanton, giddy round

            Of pleasure’s festal train.


My soul they seem to bear away

            Into “some distant land”

Where “e’en the husks the swine did eat”