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draw from the coldest worldling a wish that the days It was a long time before Montanvers recovered from were merged into nights as clear, as bright, as still as the fearful and deathlike swoon. When he did so, his was the present. The long, solemn, death-like streets, mind was heavy and depressed, and his whole frame were unlit, save by the moon and stars, that hung above tottering as if under the effects of some dreadful disease. them like jewels on the bosom of the sky, and a few Manifold thoughts served to weigh him down-thoughts feeble lamps, that flickered and gradually expired away, of pain and misery and death—but with a powerful exshamed as it seemed by the glorious lights poured upon ertion, he threw them from him. Moving from the road, the sleeping earth, from the unexhausted urns of hea- he wended down a narrow path, and slood before the ven. He had soon passed the streets and entered upon Seine, a draught of whose cooling waters refreshed and the open road that wound its serpentine path along the invigorated him. On the green turf, which at that river shore. Away in the distance was stretched the point stretches down to the water's edge, he sat, to redark forests, whose tall and noble trees, as they were flect and scheme, where we will leave him to follow stirred by the air, resembled ranks of armies, waving on some persons not yet known to the reader. high their dark green plumes. Beyond them could be Some two miles distant the road assumed a different seen the blue mountains bordering the distant view. No appearance, becoming wider and more level; and be sound was forth, save the sighings of the southerly yond it, for miles around, the view was uninterrupted by wind, rich with scent from the plains and vineyards a single hill, or a rise or fall in the ground. The river over which it had passed, and the low and not unmu- wended in a crooked, serpentine path hard by, and the sical murmur of the Seine, as its sky-mirroring waters far off mountains hung upon the skylike palaces of moved along the thick grass or rippled among the peb- snow upon battlemented clouds. bles on its shore.
Along that road there was driven a small but neat Leaving Armine on the road, we would call the atten. carriage, drawn by two horses, which, from their aption of the reader to others.
pearance, had travelled without ceasing for the whole of the day that had passed. Its passengers consisted of
a young clergyman, well known near Paris, and his CHAPTER VI.
lady. There was something in the countenance of the young man which seemed to denote his profession. His
face was pale and heavy, and rather unprepossessing, Crime indeed hath mingled in your cup
had it not been for the brightness of the eye, and the Henry Neale.
gaiety which lingered in the curl of the mouth. There She was to him all else above :
too was a plainness and neatness in his dress, a meek The fountain in a desert land;
ness and humility in his demeanor, and a gentleness in The shade midst Afric's burning sand;
all of his actions, which at one glance bespoke the mesThe star that lends its glimmering ray To light the traveller's lonely way:
senger of glad tidings sent to brighten man's pathway She was that fount, that shade, that star;
through the adamantine gates up to the golden pavilions He loved--nay, but he worshipped her!
of the New Jerusalem. Such was the reverend George Ay--but who is it?
As You Like Il.
Morton. His lady was, or rather had been, beautiful.
Sorrows and tears had thrown their nun-like feil over How very convenient it would be to take the reader her, and from the fair girl that Morton had wedded, she from the task of perusing this history, and convey him had passed to the stately and noble wife-not, however, to some arena on which each character would appear without traces of her former beauty still lingering deliver his thoughts—do his deeds and depart. And around her. She was a delightful companion for such then how very pleasant would it be to the writer, who a husband. is now annoyed with shifting and changing, to keep a After riding for some distance in silence, he began a disjointed tale together~now chatting with a hero upon conversation which they seemed to have before comthe street, and now whispering sweet words in a draw- menced. ing room, in the ears of a heroine—now moving quietly “But, my dear, there are afflictions deeper than down a stream, with the reader wistfully gazing after those through which you have already gone. Aflichim—and again taking the self same reader, against tions that well might wither the mother's heart and the advice of all old women, into the damp night air, scorch the husband's brain, were they not administered fearless of coughs and colds, to meet a character upon by Him in whom we trust; afflictions too deep and the gloomy midnight road. I have perused many beau- overpowering, save to those who can behold in thera tiful definitions of that singular creature, an author. the visitations of a high and holy power. And He who They were all interested as the writers well knew. He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, will still watch resembles a fellow whom I have seen at a cattle show, over and guard the meek and humble." placed amid the dirt and fare and stench of oil behind He spoke in a low and somewhat agitated voice, the curtain, to raise and drop and shift some dirty can, but continued in a clearer tone: vass, misnamed scenery–or, if that resemblance is not “What are the pomps and glories of the world, that striking, his occupation is much like that of the clown in hankering after them we should forget their worthon stilts, whose duly in the ring is to tease the specta- lessness? We are but wanderers upon a dreary tor by directing his already sated attention to the ex- wilderness-starting forth to-day and cut down to traordinary performances of a goodly number of fero- morrow. Why then should we waste our days in cious and well fed animals. With the reader's permis- sorrow and in grief? Why then should we repise
, sion, I will mount the stilts again and turn to my nar- when the angel of death flaps his funeral wing over rative.
friends or kindred. The springs of existence, which
cease here, flow back to their original fountain. The pressed his cold lips upon her cheek, and then came beings who leave us now, will be joined to us hereafter the pang, the struggle, the agony, the convulsion, the in a brighter and a purer sphere, and we will then silence. She stood, at that solemn hour, alone with the wander with them forever."
dead! "To what do your words tend, dear George?" asked Ere that, the robber had rifled the unfortunate man Mrs. Morton, as a suspicion of their meaning for the of purse and watch, and had drawn from the finger of first time flashed upon her.
the lady its only ornament, a small plain ring. The “Our child !" was the only reply.
approaching horseman came nearer ; but ere he reached "What of her ? what of her ?" exclaimed the now the spot, Montanvers, for he was the robber, had distracted mother.
departed. "Calm yourself, my best, my dearest, or I cannot The horseman was Francis Armine. His horse sudspeak," said he. He hesitated-it was but a moment, denly started, from some object in the road, which the for be noticed the calm resignation of his wife. “You rider on noticing approached. It was the carriage of may have noticed that a stranger handed me a letter the unfortunate Morton. Opening the door, he bewhilst supping to-night. By that letter I learned that held the murdered man and the lifeless woman. He our child, while walking by its nurse's side, was acci- entered; the blood was still oozing from the wound of dentally trodden upon by the horse of a stranger who the man--the limbs stiffened, and the body cold. But had just entered Paris-an Italian nobleman, from what the woman--she moved, she breathed, and was not I can gather. The letter is not minute ; but our child dead. A thought flashed upon him. In the darkness is either suffering, or perhaps dead!"
of the night, he rushed to the water's edge--he did not She did not answer, for before the words were finish walk; the hope of saving the life of a fellow creature ed, the carriage had been stopped, and in the next swiftened his pace--he almost flew. He reached the moment the window was opened, and a masked form river's side, and with a handful of water flew back. was before them. The intruder, noticing the lady, The carriage had gone. A sound was heard in the spoke to her companion in a softer voice than he had distanoe ; it was oh no! it was not a hunan cry; he probably intended, or than would in all cases suit his listened again, and through the deathlike stillness, was occupation as a gentleman of the road
heard the shriek of the night-bird--dread omen! “Ah! my dear sir-sorry to trouble at so late an We find a long lost treasure--and knowing it not, lose it ! hour, but my wants are urgent. Be so good as to loan me your purse and watch.”
The traveller hesitated complying with even so polite a request, and the robber, withdrawing from a concealed belt a pair of pistols, pointed one at the breast
SUMMER MURMURS, of the lady, and the other at the head of the man, and shouted in a loud and angry tone
HOW UNLIKE “SPRING JOYS." "Deliver or you die!”
BY HENRY J. BRENT, "Never!" replied the brave minister, dashing the Author of " Spring Joys,» “ Love at the Shrines,”' &c. &c. pistol of the robber from his wife's bosom, and pointing one that he had in the mean time drawn from his car- I have sung of spring and its delicious joys—but alas! riage, full in the face of the robber. It flashed. Just the blossom has fallen from the tree, and the rose-bud at this moment the sound of an approaching horse was has withered on its stem. I am half dead with ennui. heard in the distance, and the robber maddened by the The sun gets slowly from his bed of molten lead, and resistance and bravery of the man, and rendered despe- angrily keeps up his journey through the day. We rate by the approach of others, suddenly fired upon the open the windows of a morning, and stretch out our unfortunate minister. A loud shriek went forth from hands among the honeysuckles that cluster around the the wife's lips, as her husband's arm fell from the waist sills. The smell of those flowers cheer us for a while, and around which it had twined, and he dropped, steeped in the buzz of the humming bird prolongs the decaying his flowing blood, at her side.
memory of active and sportive springtime. But the “Oh! my own—my love-my life. You will not long-billed lilliputian is off, and he wanders about among die! Speak, speak!" she cried.
the stern and irresponsive apple trees, hoping to find That soft, sweet, musical voice, brought back the some bud that has been spared by the genius of ripengern-like memories of the past, and stopped the spirit's ing nature. What yawns and stretches occupy our wing ere it soared to the far off world. That voice! time before the coming of the cool water from the It had first weaved the golden chain of love around pump. We see the drowsy servant, half full of dreams, him: it had echoed in his ears like a spirit's whisper, lounging along and stumbling forth, pitcher in hand. amid the bloom and brightness of youth, and in the The perspiration of impatience beads itself upon our darker pathway of manhood, and now it came as sweet brow, and the first power of heat is brought upon us, as ever when death's dread angel hovered around the by our halloing to the valet to make haste. We sit fleeting soul like a stern and mysterious conqueror. at the open window in the meantime, with our sleeves He smiled as he looked for the last time upon her; as rolled up, while the flies, mustering in dark groupes, he heard for the last time the rich tones of her voice; dash like the armed Arabs at our neck and hands, and and faintly whispered, “Bless thee, my wife ; we will fly off laden with their tiny cargoes of blood. Anon meet again—there—there"
comes the servant, with his pitcher half full of the He lifted his eyes for a moment, and again they fell; limpid water-step by step we count his approachthe dull glazed film of death came upon them. Hel we hear his lazy and heavy foot ascending the stairs we rush to meet him—we lift the pitcher high in the self upon the cooler mould--the pump, swayed to and air-out flows the delicious stream--our head, ears and fro by the hands of perspiration, creaks as if its very flowing locks are in the basin, and the beautiful emotion founts were boiling hot-the horse laps the surplus of morning freshness, of youth, speeds, fanning as it water from the stones, and with insane eye and feroflies, through every vein and fibre of our body. To the cious teeth snaps at the tormenting ily. The cows look heart-to the brain it goes, and we lift our crown reek- piteously to the skies, and their long tails flash through ing with pearly drops, and “Richard is himself again.” the air like scorched serpents. The distant brickkilns
The poorest hind on earth, with his head in a basin, or send up their tribute of hot air, and the corners of a tub it may be, of cold, sparkling water, is as happy, houses emit a thick and trembling body of heat. The oh happier, than the proudest king who bathes in la- universal nature, from the topmost zenith of the firvender and cologne. But it must be in the midday mament to the shadiest nook of the thick woods, seems tide of the summer fires, when the dog-star rages hot. to pant and sink and die—a hush, like the silence of a
Poelry, and eloquence, and music, and oh! thou rich- burnt empire, glooms down upon the world, and desest, and dearest of all earthly thoughts, bright love, pair and fire and fever, the triumvirate of the solstice
, may come to us along the impalpable atmosphere of sway mankind with a rod of lighted lava. Oh how the dreams and delusions, may wind themselves around us, head swims and the inmost recesses of the heart throb, until we fancy the earth a paradise, and ourselves gods; as we look forth upon the immovable face of things. but how dull, how void are they all when the sun rises Books are thrown aside the pen is only retained, on the first limb of the heavens, and pours down his lest the apathetic soul should flee away in the torture consuming rays upon the earth. We are no longer of this withering idleness; and even the loved breath men, to feel the soft influences of those natural impul- of our youngest child, breathed so gently and so sweet ses that enlighten and elevate us. We are the torpid upon our cheek, and that ought to be so cool, is burncreatures of heat, the whole burnt offerings to fire. ing now. The sun is on his march of desolation.
The cook has done her best to drown, in the aromatic Phælon once more has robbed his sire of the reins and coffee, all ideas of the passionate sun that is mounting madly drives the chariot through the zodiac signs. The the fiery walls of heaven, with his hordes of satellites, scorpion and the great bear, and orion, the belted all clothed in burnished gold. The black demons of knight of heaven, are writhing under the burning hoofs summer, the flies, creep down the ends of my fingers, of the enraged steeds. He shoots, like the comet that get upon the spoon, and with all the insolence of people consumeth worlds, through the palaces of the clouds ; out of debt, drink of the coffee. The servant, in driving and as his axle revolves, we see the lightning and hear them away, dips his peacock feathers in the cup, and the crashing thunder bellowing over our heads. The lo! my white pants, the pride of the wash tub, and ocean and the lakes--the rivers and the rivulets, from my delicate vest, (exultations of washerwomen,) are the broad Atlantic down to the gentle stream that spattered with deep brown stains. The window shutter creeps amid the flowers of a lady's garden, are cool ng flies open, and the honeysuckle has crept down, that more. Gods, will round-jackets cure it? will summer the sun-beam may fall upon my forehead with its full clothes abate the evil? will getting shaved twice a day powers. The waiter, even now dosing over the back do aught to stem the tide of suffering? Are there no of one of the chairs, has forgotten to ice the butter, and gentle showers in yonder brazen arch-no drops of der it looks like a melted lake. The biscuits are burning to fall upon the wilderness—no tear of pity to meisten hot, and the unmindful cook has made no toast. Even the parched fields, and bring back the dying lily to iis the refrigerator is out of sorts, and the thermometer, beautiful existence ? smiling in the coolest place about the house, luxuriates There is a speck shading the western sky—a little with its silver blood up to 900. I'll plunge the measure cloud that inspires me with hope--with joy–with a de of heat inço the spring among the ice, and try and regu- licious thirst. It rises gradually over the top of the late the weather in that way.
horizon, and I now perceive that it stretches forth like It is singular, bu: true, that whenever there is a tre- an eagle who poises his wings amid the eternal mounmendous siege of hot, suffocating weather, without tains. From a speck of dust blown by the unfelt carwind, or breeze, or infantile zephyr, or impotent breath rent of the upper air, upon the face of the skies, it of a zephyr, that the dust is sure to mount from its dry boldly spreads forth its mantle to shadow the earth 1 bed in the street, and make its appearance into your is a dusky cloud, not black like the monumental clouds house. Just as my second cup was getting creamed, of gloom that battle with the winds after a fierce temand my hand, gemmed with flies, was outstretched to pest upon the seas. It is grayish, with an inky fringe, receive it, a puff of dust took its position upon every- and it rolls upward with its highest point whitened like thing in the room. How it came in heaven only knows. a billow crested with foam. Gently on my forehead How it mounted from the street no priest of the flows an almost imperceptible breath, as if a spirit troop oracle of Delphos could tell ; but there it was, sandy was passing through the air, and breathing on me as and choking. There is a mystery in dust that goes they passed—a motion is perceived among the trees-beyond my penetration, puzzles the will, and confounds bands of dies crowd in at the windows-the sounds the understanding. Shade of McAdam expound it to us! multiply in the streets, and I can almost imagine I bear
Not a breath of air stirs among the trees-the chick- a throb of joy coming from the dark bosom of the ens, with their wings outstretched, and beaks open, earth. I watch that cloud with a more abiding interpursue their search for food no longer-the sun, like est than ever lover gazed upon the rising planet that a magnetizer, has touched their nerves, and even they, signalled him to the interview with his mistress. The more voracious than the slandered pig, are still at last
. whole people are watching it—they seem to cry aloud The dog has scratched up the earth, and nestled him- )“ there is rain in yonder cloud!"
Even while I write it has darkened the western hea. | bordering on the Catawba river. It has also been ven, and a glorious shadow has fallen from its pinions. found in Florida and Kentucky. In all of its The thunder is awake-I hear the muttering giant, and different situations it seems to prefer a light, virsee that he has seized his spear, which already gleams gin soil. It may be frequently seen growing very around the universe. His banner is unfurled, and his luxuriantly on some rugged and abrupt hill side, mighty hosts are crowding up the sky-paths from where it is protected from the sun by the surevery mountain pass and hoary sea. The drops are
rounding growth. Indeed, a cool situation seems falling on the trembling trees--the rush of the tem- is not exclusively restricted to this its native and
to be greatly conducive to its prosperity. Yet it pest is on my ears--the thunder and the lightning are favorite situation. It bears transplanting very abroad, the heat reigns no more--there is music among well, provided some attention is paid in having it the spheres, as if a thousand bards had struck their occasionally irrigated during dry seasons. To musical harps, and sang united around the footstool of ensure its future growth, with some degree of the Most High. While the war of majesty and glory certainty, after removal, I would recommend, as a is in progress, I will turn me on yonder couch and sleep precautionary measure, the planting of rose bushes, until the serrant wakes me to cool air and comfortable lilacs (syringa vulgaris) or other small undertea and toast.
growth about its roots. These will keep up a Washington, July 13, 1838.
coolness and moisture during the heat of summer. The Magnolia may also be raised from the seed; and this method is, perhaps, the most advisable when young plants cannot be easily procured. It
is admitted by the most assiduous collectors in THE MAGNOLIA.
Botany, that this species of Magnolia has the lar
gest leaves and flowers of any other tree in North Amidst the great variety of trees indigenous to America. It is in the vegetable kingdom that we the United States, there is, perhaps, none which behold the finest delineations of nature amply and more forcibly claims attention or commands ad- richly portrayed. Her choicest pencilling, her miration than the Magnolia. This beautiful most delicate tints, and brilliant hues, we find genus or family of trees, consists of about fifteen attractively displayed on the variegated flower. species, and is almost equally divided betwixt the And with what pleasurable emotions do we reUnited States and China. The generic term cognize her beautiful finger-work as exhibited in Magnolia is derived from Magnol, a distinguished the large and snow like blossoms of the MagnoFrench botanist of the eighteenth century. The lia. The magnitude of the leaves is not a little genus is arranged under the class, Polyandria, and remarkable, and naturally suggests to the inquiorder Polygynia, of the sexual system of Linnæus. sitive mind the idea of coolness, shade, and protecThe two most interesting and ornamental species tion. They are frequently found measuring from are the Magnolia Grandiflora, and Magnolia eight to twelve inches, in breadth, and from Macrophylla. In Florida where the former four- twenty-five to thirty inches in length. These ishes in extreme luxuriance and grandeur, the dimensions, it is true, are vastly inferior in size forest, during the lowery season, is represented as to the leaves of the Palm trees of Ceylon, which being sublimely picturesque, and presenting one are said, by a distinguished writer, to be capable of the most enchanting views in nature. It not of sheltering whole families from the inclemency unfrequently presents a living column of eighty of the weather. But it may be observed, that in or ninety feet in elevation, almost unobstructed tropical climates all plants assume a more luxuriby branches, and terminating in a spreading top ant growth, and the magnitude of the leaves seems of the deepest perennial verdure. li has a pyra- to be the result of benevolent design by the author midal, or 'semi-elliptical head, when not injured of the universe in consulting the health, the comby accident. From May to August, in favorable forts, and the pleasures of the inhabitants destined situations, it is generally covered with brilliant to live beneath the scorching rays of a torrid sun. white flowers on the extremities of the young Even in a medical point of view, the Magnolia is branches. Another species of Magnolia frequently worthy of attention. The bark of all the species met with in our forests, and which has been culti- are known to possess camphorated, aromatic, and vated to some extent, is the cucumber tree (Mag- tonic qualities. In intermittent fevers, chronic nolia Acuminata.) 'It derives its familiar name rheumatism, &c., several species have been adfrom a resemblance betwixt its cone, or seed-ves- vantageously used. But it would be foreign to sel
, and the common garden cucumber. But it is this sketch to enter into detail. The preceding the Magnolia Mucrophylla which attracts the great-remarks are made with a view of pointing out the est share of attention, and on which it is chieħy in- most desirable species of Magnolia, and presenttended to make a few desultory observations. The ing to the general reader a brief outline of its extent of this species in the United States is ex- natural history. In Philadelphia and other northtremely limited, and its diffusions but partialern cities, where the Magnolia has been successwherever found. Nuttall observed it on the banks fully cultivated, a great value is attached to it as of the Cumberland river, Tennessee, but of very an ornamental tree; but in our own more favored small size. He also points out its most noted locality clime, in this respect, it is too frequently doomed in a "narrow tract of about two miles in length, to realize the line of the poet, twelve miles south-east of Lincolnton, Lincoln
“ Born to blush unseen," county, North Carolina.” The limits, however, of this species are more extensive than those as- and deck its sec retreat in solitary grandeur. signed by the above distinguished naturalist. In To the lovers of Flora, and particularly to the Lincoln county I have been enabled to discover ladies, who delight to see dame nature attired in several other localities in the section of country her inimitable drapery, from the purest white to the most exquisite and variegated tints, is the ap-Sad thought! to deem that all we prize and cherish, is peal made to cultivate the Magnolia. Wherever
but nought, known in the United States it has acquired the That all things precious to the soul, exist not, but in
thought, merited appellation of “ beauty of the forest," and is justly deemed the most splendid and magnificent That she whom now with fond embrace into my heart
I clasp, tree in North America.
Is nought but unsubstantial form alone, that melts with
in the grasp!
A BACKWOODSMAN BOTANIST.
The generations, that have passed forever more away,
ture's primal day,
With those who linger yet, the thronging multitudes of LIFE IS BUT A DREAM.*
earth, Are they, indeed, but ghostly forms of reeling fancy's
birth? Oh human life, thou mystery of mysteries the first, Whose shadowy veil no mortal grasp can rend aside or burst,
Dread thought! from which with shuddering awe, the Art thou, indeed, as some have deemed, a visionary startled soul doth shrink dream,
As from a falhomless abyss, beneath a dizzy brink, Whose shifting scenes of light and shade, are not, but A thought like that which chills the mind, when gazing only seem ?
on the tomb,
The darkness of that prison-house appals with spectral And is it but a fairy world of fancy's gay domain,
gloom. This gorgeous globe of land and sea, of mountain and of plain,
Yet not without its charm for him, whose weary life And rivers bright that lave the walls of cities proud hath been and fair,
A waste, where neither flowers nor fruits, adorn the Hoar forests, flowers of myriad dye, whose fragrance
dismal scene, charms the air ?
Who hath not reaped for all his toil, nor happiness nor
fame, Yon sun, that like a golden shield, all glorious, hangs Yet lives with disenchanted soul, cut off from hope or on high,
aim. The crescent moon of silvery hue, that gems the liquid sky,
Nor yet to him, I ween, who oft a fearful look doth cast The host of heaven whose ancient fires of unconsuming with conscience-stricken spirit through the irrevocable light,
past; Illume like beacons far descried, the watches of the Whom shapes of guilt, unexorcised, assail with startnight?
When stretched upon the sleepless couch, or e'en at Are these but phantoms of the mind, that doth itself noontide hour.
delude With dazzling shapes, the meteor forms of visionary Nor sad the thought to him, on whom existence bears,
brood, Which mighty worlds we fondly deem, launched forth A burden weary to be borne, along a dreary road;
a load, in infinite space
That all the crushing cares which weigh his spirit down By God's almighty arm, to run a fixed, though track.
to earth less race?
Are emply as the shadowy forms of unsubstantial birth. Hark! 'tis the thunder's awful voice that, booming, Life but a dream? what were we then, I ask with
peals on high, While vivid lighinings flash their blaze athwart the Ere fell upon our souls benumbed, this sleep as of the
speechless dread lurid sky, Is that dread sound of tempest birth, an echo of the soul, And when and where, as from a trance aroused, skal
dead, And spirit-born those winged fires that flame from pole
we awake, to pole ?
And truth and light, at length upon our startled spirits
break ? Nought but the fiction of a dream, each animated form, That cleaves, or ranges air, earth, sea, with life and motion warm,
Was it when first we oped our eyes upon earth's varied And he who reigns with lofty brow, the monarch of show, them all,
We fell into the sleep profound in which we slumber The godlike creature whom with pride creation's lord now, we call ?
Whose bonds the touch of death alone can sever and set Are they but shade, man's form divine, and woman's The long bound prisoner waked at length, to life and seraph face,
liberty ? The venerable brow of eld, and childhood's sportive grace ;
Shall we not then true substance grasp, not shadows Aspiring youth, with beaming eye of rapture-kindled dim, as here, fire The veil then drawn aside, shall not the mystery be clear
, Gazing on maiden loveliness, with fond and chaste de. This world of gross, material form, a baseless fabrie sire ?
And spirit but survive the wreck, which nought cao * These lines were suggested by the common figurative ex.
change or move? pression “Life is but a Dream,” which has been the actual beJief of some.
Washington, 28th July, 1838.