Imágenes de páginas

faint streaks of sunshine, that now and then with perfect amazement on the results of an lighten up the dull landscape. I have been energetic character. Take any country town, thinking, Mary, since coming among these hos- and go through it with open eyes, and we shall pitable people, of the great social advantages of have learned more of human nature and of life the country over the city, and each day I am in all its conditions, than we could have learned more fully convinced that this is, after all, the from reading the whole Waverly library. great reforming process for inankind. The love The village of Rowe, like other hilly towns, and confidence of a whole community, is the abounds in wild scenery, and there are some pesurest safeguard against sin; and I also see in culiar places of attraction,-such as the smooth | this great social life that beats so true in small pond, where many a lover of nice trout has spent gatherings of people, the great principle of moral an half day sailing in the little boat upon its and mental improvement. Here people think placid bosom, or standing on the shore and and act, more than they read and converse. watching their line as it drops into the water Books are only valuable as suggesting subjects looking like a silvery stream of light playing 1 for our own diligent investigation and thought. with the fishes and pebbles at the bottom of the If we can come to the same conclusion from our lake. There is also “The Pulpit” or “Pulpit own research, we are wiser a hundred fold, rich- Rock," which I have visited, but I am anticier in the knowledge itself, and stronger in the pated in a description of it by a last year's visdiscipline of the mind, than if we had taken it itor, who has done better justice to its wild picsecond hand from authors.

turesqueness than I could possibly do. One to fully understand this, must go into the The people of Rowe assign two reasons for heart of a village circle, with a mind open to its name, “ The Pulpit," one of which is, that receive truths in a homely guise, and they will a man many years ago lived near this place, draw from the fountain head, the principles that who was an honest and pious man, a lover of are the basis of all written knowledge. Had we good order and his Bible. His home was an as much nicety of perception as Dickens, Scott, uncomfortable place to him, and as he found no and Hawthorne, we might laugh, cry, and ad- peace within the circle of his family, he was mire the same specimens of human nature, as wont to resort to this wild and rugged precipice we find them in the workshop, kitchen and field, and spend his sabbaths with his own thoughts as we bestow our praise upon in their wonderful and his books. Here he no doubt found peace. productions. They are wonderful indeed ; but Thus it ever is, when the world is cold, mother they are only imitators of Nature, and often fail Nature opens lovingly her arms and takes us in their delineation, while we may dip from the into her blessed communion. Many have found fresh fountain itself, and be all the wiser for our in her a sympathizing friend when the human research. I know and fully prize the true worth heart was full of bitterness. The other reason of books; but a mere book-worm who takes assigned for its appropriate name, is, that a every thing from another, and shuts himself out young student, completing his ministerial stuof great social life, is not the learned man. dies with the clergyman of the town, gathered

Let us go into the fields and see the farmer together a party of school-boys for his audience, sow, hoe and reap, into the dairy room, and in- and here on the steep rocks, with the grand spect the process of making butter and cheese, -- scenery before him, he preached his first sermon. not only look carelessly at it, but dig out the A fitting place it was truly. He laid his first science of these practical employments. Let us efforts on Nature's altar, and she carried the place the wild flowers in the hair of the village sweet incense of that earriest endeavor on her bride, note what a depth of lore and beauty of own pure breath to the Author of her own boun. soul beats beneath her snowy bridal robe, --ad- teous being. mire the manliness of the bridegroom, as he Last night I rode with the village Dr., (to sea's his vows with the tender kiss of love. whose kind hospitality I am indebted for many Go into the school-room, see how thirty unruly a ride over these beautiful hills) to call on an spirits are kept in quiet obedience by the energy old gentleman and lady who live alone with of that delicate creature who looks far more fit for their daughter. Other children have grown up, the parlor and piano, than for the arduous work married, and left the paternal roof, while this

Otto Busin.l.16 ipiis bend :o one remains to labor for and comfort the hearts her yeuse ruit. une jouiium her eye yucils of her parents in their old age. Not only bas the rebellious spirit of mischief, and we look she performed faithfully the duties of a farmer's


Faded buds of human beauty,

Shut away from mortal sight; Shut away from earth's drear tempest

From its canker- from its blight.

Little buds, that with your sweetness

Gladdened oft the household hearth; That had own'd a shadow o'er it,

'Till the hour that gave you birth.

Precious gifts that angels sent us,

From the garden up above ; That man's stern, relentless nature

Might be softened by your love.

And fond woman still grow fonder,

As her daily path she trod ; Drawn by such sweet links of beauty,

Yet the nearer to her God.

daughter within doors, but she has also been a son to them, laboring with her father on his farm, and easing him of many an otherwise heavy burden. Unfortunately she is now disabled by an accident, and her usual labors are for a time suspended. It was affecting to notice how those old parents in their second childhood, clung to their slender child, as their only hope. It was pitiful to see how anxiously they watched the physician's countenance, as if to read something that he might in kindness withhold from them in regard to her recovery. I came away with my lap full of roses which grew in great profusion around their humble dwelling.

As we rode home down by the steep hills by twilight, my companion interested me by an account of the old pastor and his wife, now dead, whose bouse we passed. He pointed out to me the long row of stone wall that bounded his farm, which he laid with his own hands,-besides cultivating many acres of land, and performing all his parochial duties. His excellent wife, who lived and died beloved and honored by all who knew her, would superintend a large dairy, educate her children, and receive visitors cheerfully, not dreaming she was living a hard life. On Sabbath mornings they would mount the horse, she behind her “liege lord” with a child in her arms, and trot over the hills to church. During the week she found time to visit their people, and sit at their social board, where tea was prepared in an open tin vessel, and passed from one to another for each to sip, without the luxuries of cream and sugar. Some little change has taken place in table etiquette in the last fifty years.

I am spinning out a tediously long letter to you, dear Mary, and not half have I said that I would like, of the quiet enjoyment of my country home. It is indeed a happy privilege to live with Nature in this delightful season of the year. My earnest wish is, that I may never be long separated and shut out from her kindly companionship, but on the return of each bright Spring, take her to my heart as I do now, and feel her joyous life beating in my bosom, and her holy influences entering into my soul.

[blocks in formation]


My soul what a blessedness Poetry gives! I am here, where I wrote you last, in one of those charming little nooks that seem to be an undestroyed bower of Eden, with no chance for the serpent to glide in. If I was an Adam I should seek the Eve that is here, but she is just as truly to me as she would be should an Adam get her, “a help-meet.” I shall not describe her lest some of your

young minister" readers should be bowing this way, and my petite companion become a grave parson's wife, (not a

[ocr errors]

"A TERRIBLE mischief is done to a child in letting him have his own way. If it does not result in bis ruin, it adds a thousand difficulties to the task of self-government, and sows the garden of the heart with weeds and briars, that will be rooted out with blood and tears."

Vol. XX. 17

see first


parson's grave wife, for she would never remind how Ella reads, but she does read--she's the you much of the grave, but of glory.) Here I Jenny Lind of readers; the sound of Autes, the found to-day a new treasure— Tennyson's Poems. ringing of bells, the tinkling of the rill, and all Mercy me! what a shower of gold-what a sea the dulcet harmonies of harp and viol are in her of diamonds-what a heaven of starry, planetary voice. She did read as poetry ought to be read, thoughts! “Not read him before !” you cry in the all informing soul making the voice the surprise, and well you may, thanks for some. sweet interpreter of hidden meanings. She read thing else) to the Reviewers. I read a critique The Talking Oak"--and was a't it talk! Will in which he was dressed up as something so ex- ever tree talk like that about me? Ah, let me quisitely dainty, with such an over-fastidiousness, that he seemed as though he ate nothing but humming birds, and drank only dew. I never

“ The love that makes him thrice a man," was in full dress enough to read him, and was

and then I'll venture to prophecy that of some afraid to go near him, lest I should be a spider oak, or willow, or chestnut, it shall be said in his parlor. And then, too, some of " ministers" (good sense, help them !) declared

“ he plagiarized a heart, they could make nothing out of his “ In Memo- And answer with a voice." riam," and this helped to keep me away from the sweetest nook in the Paradise of Poetry. Oh

What a dear poem is that! Under its drift of ye dullards, what work is yours! This blue

smoke the city lies in the distance, and nearer spectacle age colors every thing blue, but "the

are the mouldering Abbey-walks that stand blues" is - all in the eye"-or glasses. But

within the chace; in the field is the old oak, I've got to Tennyson now, and he is mine

Whose topmost branches can discern mine as all pure spirits of Poetry are welcomed,

The roofs of Sumner-place," to whom it is given to interpret the divine phase of all things,

where Olivia has her home. To this oak the

poet “ And sing of what the world will be When the years have died away.”

spoke without restraint,

And with a larger faith appealed There were the volumes on Ella's shelf-in

Than Papist unto Saint," blue and gold, for all the world like dragon-flies,

for what he had seen in the ways of Olivia who and how asthmatic my breathing became as I instantly thought of primming up in this hot gamboled in the shade of his branches, weather and putting on yellow kids to touch

" light as any wind that blows daintiness! I slipped by them as speedily as pos. So fleetly did she stir, sible, and became very wise over Bailey's " An- The flower, she touched on, dipt and rose, gel World," for I dipped into it where he says:

And turned to look at her."

[ocr errors]

The talk was returned until the oak was found

" A babbler in the land.”

" All went well
For many a sunny cycle. Year by year
The souls of all things there were ripening fast
To spirit-like perfection ; day by day
Grew spirithood to deathless angel kind-
Angelic nature to Divine estate.
It seemed a happy contest which of all
Should happiest be.

“ Just our contest,” said I to Ella, and she, poor soul, had the dragon flies examining their wings, intent on showing me some of the gold. I shook my handkerchief to give the air some Attar, and twisted my curls into as fair ringlets as I could make them just then. Down I sat in the best chair, in my best position, and “ Miss Precision" most surely was I! Ella read-you don't know

He still keeps his power, and to the poet he talks
of what he has seen. And he did see sweeter
evidences of the love of a woman's heart than
she would ever show to man. Discontented
that he came not to her home, she came to the
oak--danced and sung under it, and even ven-
tured to clasp it, making the oak envious of the
young beech by his side, -
“I wished myself the fair young beach

That here beside me stands,
That round me, clasping each in each,

She might have locked her hands."
But did she read the carved name?

“) yes, she wandered round and rouud

was at home with Nature. We went out unThese knotted knees of mine,

der the chestnuts, and Ella read, and I kept And found, and kissed the name she found, hushed as the morning when the birds sing. She And sweetly murmured thine !

read me Locksley Mall.What intensity of

feeling! What luxury of language! What muA tear-drop trembled from its source, And down my surface crept.

sic of description ! My sense of touch is something coarse,

“ Summer isles of Eden lying in dark-purple But I believe she wept.

spheres of sea." Then flushed her cheek with rosy light,

Let the great world spin forever down the She glanced across the plain ;

ringing grooves of change.But not a creature was in sight : She kissed me once again.

“ Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of

Her kisses were so close and kind,
That, trust me on my word,

• 0, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath Hard wood I am, and wrinkled rind,

not set, But yet my sap was stirred :

Ancient founts of inspiration well through all

my fancy yet." And even into my inmost ring A pleasure I discerned,

To me The Two Voices”-scepticism and Like those blind motions of the Spring,

faith, is one of the finest Ella read. O you That show the

is turned.''

ought to hear her read it! that ebb and Row of

feeling, giving the feet or languid motion to the And there, under the shadows of the oak, the thought of hope or doubt—that gathering of the maiden laid down to rest, and down through the

mysteries of life-those fierce warrings of the miogled leaves came the murmur of the swarm

evils that press to the reach of the senses, and ing sound of life-the music from town, lulled

the hidden good that attempts to break through into the whispers above the dreamer's ear, and

into prominence, till at length Faith triumphs,

the oak says:

" and from out the heart a power Broke, like the rainbow from the shower."

“ Sometimes I let a sunbeam slip,

To light her shaded eye ;
A second fluttered round her lip

Like a golden butterfly.

A third would glimmer on her neck

To make the necklace shine ; Another slid, a sunny fleck,

From head to ancle fine.

I dare not write more,-- Ella calls me, and I cannot but go. But do read Tennyson. You do read him I have no doubt; and one of the coming autumn days we'll talk over the well springs of " In Memoriam.I go now where its spirit is needed, where a sweet creature is drooping-to fall, I fear, before the rose cheeked apples she has watched by her casement shall have ripened and the birds have ceased to sing.

Yours ever, with a hope of forever,

Then close and dark my arms I spread,

And shadowed all her rest-
Dropt dews upon her golden head,

An acorn in her breast.



But in a pet she started up,

And plucked it out, and drew My little oakling from the cup,

And Alung him in the dew.” And so the Talking Oak is "garrulously given," and talks and is talked to, till the poet vows that beneath it shall be the Bridal, and its fame shall be kept with the jealousy of love.

“ Did I keep seated in that antique chair of plush and down ?" No! I felt the freedom of the woods, the breath of the western wind, and

With her dewy violet eyes
Gazing round in glad surprise,
And her gleaming naked feet
With celestial motion fleet,
Dancing gaily in and out,
With her ringing baby shout,
Playing round the open door
In the moonlight on the floor,

Silver laughter on her lips,

acquirements, and pleased with her heroic courAs to elfin song she trips,

age, and ingenuous skill, displayed in tbe differ. Happy Clara Evelyn !

ent scenes of life in which she participated.

In early life she wedded Odenathus, a wealthy With her tiny dimpled hands

and distinguished senator of Palmyra. He was Full of blossoms, now she stands

noble and brave, and like his wife, exceedingly Swaying in the moon's calm light,

ambitious. At the time when Sapor king of Faintly chanting to the night

Persia was in arms against the Romans, and Songs we may not understand,

had even taken their aged emperor Valerian, While she gently waves her hand, And the blossoms softly fall

prisoner of war, Odenathus determined to send On the floor about the hall,

the conqueror a present worthy of a great and

victorious monarch. A numerous train of cam. And the moonlight on her hair Seems a golden halo there,

els were accordingly despatched, laden with the Fairy Clara Evelyn!

most costly gems and richest merchandize, ac

companied by a respectful epistle soliciting his See the fairy kneeling now

acceptance of the gift. But the costly offering With the halo on her brow,

was disdainfnlly rejected and thrown into the Kneeling at her mother's feet

Euphrates, and an insulting reply returned. Yet While her baby lips repeat,

the proud monarch lived to repent his rashness; With a music soft and low,

instead of a fawning sycophant, he was destined As the broken accents flow

to contend with a warrior, brave and successful From her lips, her evening prayer,

as himself. The pride of Odenathus was woundThanking God for all his care,

ed, and his energy aroused. He im inediately Kneeling by the open door,

summoned an army of followers and dependants, In the moonlight on the floor,

and with his heroic and armed band, he met the Praying Clara Evelyn !

Persian king, whom he repulsed and obliged him Gently dreaming now she sleeps,

to retreat in haste and disorder beyond the EuO'er her face the moonlight creeps,

phrates, leaving behind him immense treasures, While the shadows come and

and many of his choicest soldiers as prisoners of

go, Sofily waving to and fro, With her snow-white shoulders bare

From this moment the fortunes of Odenathus 'Neath that cloud of golden hair,

and Zenobia were made; the majesty of Rome And her merry glances hid

was protected, his fairest province was rid of an By the drooping of the lid,

invader, and the voice of history will long record As her little fingers keep

their fame. Gallienus, the younger emperor of Time to music in her sleep,

Rome, immediately accepted Odenathus for a Dreaming Clara Evelyn !

colleague in governing the empire. Prosperity ABBIE E. REMINGTON. crowned his efforts for tbe good of his subjects, Centreville, R. I.

and he governed them in wisdom and prudence. Yet his success was mainly attributed, both in

war and on the throne, to the talents, energy, AN HISTORICAL SKETCH : ZENOBIA. and influence of his wife. She rode by his side

at the head of his valiant armies, and her courAmong the distinguished females of antiquity, age never deserted her, in times of most immi. whose talent and energy excite our admiration, nent danger. She was a universal favorite. At the celebrated queen of the East, whose name the death of her husband he bequeathed his emheads this article, ranks among the most con- pire and subjects to her, who had shared his evspicuous. She seemed intended by nature for ery pursuit, and whom he felt to be equal to the no ordinary station in life. Her beauty is des- duties of a queen. But this was contrary to the cribed in extravagant language by historians. wishes and expectations of the emperor at Rome, She was tall, with a graceful figure, eyes of the and the queen of the East was regarded as a darkest lustre, with a most animating expres- rival and a usurper, who must eventually be desion, teeth of pearly whiteness, and a voice of throned. The Roman arms, however, were most harmonious sweetness. As we contem- turned against other rivals, and in peace Zenoplate her character, we are surprised at her vast bia reigned during five years over the fairest


« AnteriorContinuar »