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tween whose park-gates and his extends the distance made from the Countess of to her husband. It of a morning's drive through one of the loveliest was a summons to attend, if he wished, the burial of hedged winding-roads of lovely England. A very his only child—the heir of his name, and the bringernatural inquiry was of the whereabout and happiness back, had he lived, of wealth to the broken fortunes of the Countess of —, whom I had left at Naples of his title. A severer blow could hardly have folten years before, and had not been in the way of lowed the first-for it struck down heart, pride, and hearing of since; and I named her in the gay tone all that could brighten this world's future. Lord with which one speaks of the brilliant and happy. came. The grave was made in a deep grove of firs We were sitting at the dinner-table, and I observed on the estate of the boy's mother. There were but that I had mis-struck a chord of feeling in the com- | three mourners present-herself, her father, and her pany present, and with well-bred tact, the master of husband. The boy was ten or eleven years old the house informed me that misfortunes had befallen when he died, and one of the most gifted and noble the family since the period I spoke of, and turned the lads, in mind and person, that had ever been seen by conversation to another topic. After dinner, I heard those who knew him. On his horse, with his servant from him the following outline of the story, and its behind him, the young boy-lord was a constant sight affecting sequel.

of pride and beauty to the inhabitants of the county, Near the close of the season when Lord was and was admired and beloved every where he rode at Naples, he suddenly left that city and returned in his daily excursions. with his wife and their one child to England. To the The service was read; the two parents stood side surprise of the wondering world, Lady went to by side at the grave, while the body was laid in ither father's, and Lord to the small estate of his the first time they had met since their separation, and widowed mother, where they remained for a while in both in the prime of life, and with hearts yearningunexplained seclusion. It was not long before ru- both hearts, beyond a doubt-with love, and longing mors arrived from Italy, of a nature breathing upon for forgiveness; and when the earth rang on the the reputation of the lady; and soon after a formal coffin, they parted without exchanging a word. The separation took place, Mr. her father, engaging carriage of Lord waited for him in the avenue; to leave his whole fortune to the son of Lord —, and with the expiring echo of his wheels through if that nobleman would consent to give him to the that grove of fir-trees, died all hope and prospect, if exclusive keeping of his mother. With these facts any had been conceived, of a re-union, in grief, of ended the world's knowledge of the parties, the sepa- these proud broken-hearted. rated pair remaining, year after year, in absolute I have told you thus, with literal truth, all that I seclusion; and Lady — never having been known could know of this drama of real life; but, of course, to put foot beyond the extending forest in which her its sketchy outline could be easily filled out by fancy. home was hidden from view, and the gates to which Your readers, perhaps, will like to do this for them. were guarded from all entrance, even of family selves. friends.

Yours truly, It was but a few days before this sequel was nar

N. P. WILLIS rated to me, that the first communication had been

LINES TO

BY CAROLINE F. ORNE.

Like a cloud of the summer sunset

Gleaming across the blue,
Like a star of the golden twilight

Through the misty evening dew,
Like a strain of heavenly music

Breathed mournfully and low, Charming the heart to sadness

By its bewildering flowThou camest to my presence

In the far off long-ago. Thon camest for a moment,

Then fleeted swift away,
As the rosy cloud of sunset

Fades at the close of day,
As the beaming star of twilight

Withdraws its golden ray.
Thon bast past from out my presence

As the songs low cadence dies,

Which the heart seeketh ever,

And evermore it flies.
Oh, in my weary journeying

Come to me yet once more,
While still my footsteps wander

On Time's uncertain shore.
Come to me, oh, sweet vision

Of what my soul has sought,
And with mine once more mingle

Thy far, sky-piercing thought.
Call I in vain thy spirit ?

Do I seek thee all in vain ?
Shall I never hear thy accent

In music fall again?
Why didst thou cross my pathway,

Oh soul so pure and true ?
To fade like the clouds of sunset.

Like the star from the misty blue ?

AUTUMNAL SCENERY.

WHAT IS NECESSARY TO THE ENJOYMENT OF NATURE'S BEAUTIES

BY JOSEPH R. CHANDLER

I am not of those who think that a true enjoyment , upon the uses of time and talents, but let me pareoof the beauties of nature, of natural scenery, and thetically note that the gift of enjoying leisure is so natural objects, generally, is a test of the purity of rare in the young, that a lack of constant occupation principle or the delicacy of sentiment, any more than should be rather feared than courted. I do not speak I hold that a love of music is essential to domestic, of the danger of flagrant vice, but of a growi prosocial or political virtue. The cultivation of the eye pensity to disregard portions of time, because only and the ear-or the capabilities in those organs for portions may be necessary to the discharge of admitcultivation-have more to do with all this than many ted duties--the danger is imminent—but not to the seem to allow; and men and women of the purest young alone. In youth, love of action may employ principles, and the highest benevolence, may stand the leisure to the promotion of vice in age, a tendency within the loveliest scenes that nature has ever to inertness may induce the abuse of the leisure to spread out, or may listen to the most delicious music total inaction. I can hardly imagine any object more that art has ever prepared and performed, without unsightly than an idle old man—the dead trunk of a comprehending the beauties or the excellence of decayed tree, marring the landscape and injuring cu!. either, or imagining that there is a moral test applied ture. But I must return. Not leisure, for I have to them in these attractions Nevertheless, there is little of that to boast of or fear; not leisure, but a an enjoyment in such scenes and such sounds, and love, a growing love for the partial solitude of the those who are permitted to share therein have another field, and something of an enjoyment of the elevating lite-or such an additional enjoyment added to that communion which it leaves, sent me more than once of ordinary minds, that they seem to live more, if not in November last strolling beyond the dusty roads longer, in such pleasures than the common allotment; and noisy turnpike in the vicinity of our city. It and none, I suspect, will doubt that the indulgence of was, as I have reason to recollect, on the eighteenth a taste for natural beauties tends to soften the mind, of November, that I was wandering observantly, but soothe the passions, and thus elevate the feelings and in deep contemplation, across some of the fields that aspirations.

lie near the road leading from the city to Frankford. If I have less of the power of appreciating and en- It was a lovely day, and every feeling of my heart joying rural sights and rural sounds, if there is vouch- was nsonant to the scene. Ascending a little safed to me a limited capability of understanding and eminence, I obtained an extensive view. The forest delighting in the beauties of the field and wood, of trees had lost their rich garb of mottled beauties, and gathering pleasure from the outstretched loveliness their denuded limbs stretched out with attenuated of land and stream, still I thank God; and I speak delicacy, seemed to streak the distant horizon with with reverence, I thank God that I have some plea- darkened lines. On my right the winding Delaware sure in these things; and more than that, I have a lay stretched out in glassy beauty, and near me, certain fixed delight in noticing the enjoyment which glittering in the sunlight beyond, were a thousand the better formed and higher cultivated mind derives gossamer webs that had survived a recent storin. from what a good Providence has poured out for the The fields were unusually green, for the season, as decoration of the earth. Humble as this faculty may if the year were clothing itself, like an expiring prebe, which is partly exercised through intermediate late, with its richest habiliments, that its departure objects, I find it useful to me, and, still better, I find might leave the impress of that beauty which comes that it ministers to other pleasures--to enjoy what is from its usefulness. I had yielded to the influences lovely is a high and a cultivated talent—the enjoy of the scene, had allowed my feeling to predominate, ment of that loveliness with another kindred or more and was in the midst of an unwonted abstraction elevated mind is a yet higher attainment, as the per- from all ordinary cares and relations, catching soineformance of concerted music is more difficult and thing of that state with which the more gifted are inmore gratifying than a simple solo.

dulged, when I was startled by the sound of footstep: Rarely within my recollection, and that is as in- upon the carpet-like grass around me. clusive as the remembrance of almost any around "Hardly looking for game here?'' said the person me, rarely has an autumn been more delightful than inquiringly. that which has just closed, in its clear, shining sun- * And without dog and gun?" said I. light, or more attractive for its bland and healthful " There's not much game in these parts," said he temperature. Not leisure--for that I have little to “And yet I was hunting!" said I.

"Hunting boast of, or to fear. Let my young readers mark pleasure from the prospect." that word, fear. I am not about to write a homily * I do not derive much pleasure," said my coinpanion, "from such things. Almost all fields are looking at the various points of the scenery, to try alike to me. Generally they are places for labor, or to have the enjoyment which was imparted to her they lie between my residence and labor, and thus from the visits. Once I came when she was here, make a toilsome distance."

and met a condescension entirely hidden in kinds. But do you not enjoy the pleasure of this scene? ness; she called my attention to what she desigDo you not, while looking abroad from some emi-nated the numerous beauties of the place, and subnence, feel a sensation different from what you ex- sequently I went frequently to the spot to look at perience while walking on the turnpike ?"

what she had pointed out, and I think I occasionally "Most generally. I think there was once or twice derived some new pleasure from the scene.

I am a feeling came over me here which I did not exactly not able now to say whether that pleasure was the understand.”

result of new capacities to behold beauties, or * And when was that?":

whether it was consequent upon my respect for Always on Sunday morning, as I have been her who had imparted the lesson. Perhaps both. crossing the field to attend service at the church "There was a young man, a relative of Mrs. yonder. I could not tell whether it was a sense of with whom this lady resided, that came frequently to relief from ordinary labor, or something connected the house. I never saw a person apparently more win. with the service in which I was about to join; but, ning in his manner, or more delicate in his attentions ; certainly, the fields, and woods, and water beyond, and, as all expected, he proposed for marriage to the had a different appearance, and seemed to affect me young woman. It was thought that there would be differently from their ordinary influence. Perhaps objections on the part of his relations—and there were; as these feelings are recent, they may have sprung but they came from the gentleman of the house, who from another cause."

plainly declared that the young man was not worthy "Is the beauties of nature, and the influence of re- of the woman he sought. Her heart, it was evident, ligious aspirations could not account for those feel- was concerned; it was whispered, I know not how ings which you experienced, I can scarcely tell truly, that the youth bad associations in the city unwhence you derived the sensation."

worthy his relations at home. But when do the " I suppose that all beauties are not discernable

young and confiding ever regard monitions of this at once, and our sympathies are not all awakened by kind. She, whose good sense had restored order to a single exhibition of what may be productive of a family that needed direction, and had sustained her delight or sorrow. Whatever of pleasure I have against all adverse circumstances among strangers, derived from the beauties observable from such could not influence her against the pleadings of her places as this, are not primarily referable to my own own heart. The young man, more than a year since, powers of application, but rather from the lessons received a commission, and joined the army at of another-lessons derived from a few words, and Mexico. He left with her a sealed paper, and his from constant example."

favorite dog. The animal was already most affec“And, pray, what example could open to you new tionately attached to her, and now became her conbeauties in a landscape, or develop attractions in a stant companion. Never did I see an animal so comscene which you had been in the habit of seeing for pletely devoted 10 a human being; never was kindmany years?"

ness more reciprocated than was that of the companion "I do not know that any one has taught me by of her walks; he patiently awaited at the door of the word and example to see from any point of observa church for the conclusion of the services, and at night lion, aught that I had not discerned before, but it is held vigils beneath her window. I think the dog, certain that what was unnoticeable became an object too, must have understood something of the beauty of contemplation, and points of the scenery have of this scenery; for I have seen him for an hour 10been made to harmonize by association, when gether standing wistfully beside his mistress, and viewed separately, they had little that was at- gazing up into her face, and then not meeting with an tractive.

encouraging look, stretching his sight far away in the * A few years since, a young lady, I think of direction of her eyes, as if determined to share with European birth, was brought to live in the house her whatever contributed to her pleasure or her pain. which stands near yonder clump of trees; her situa- “Less than four months ago news reached the family tion seemed that of an humble companion to the of the death of the young man–I do not remember lady—but her services and her influence made her the exact time, or the place of the engagement in more than loved. I never saw more affection ex- which he fell—but his death produced deep sensahibited iban all of the household manifested toward tion in the family generally, but it went to the heart her. I cannot tell you what means she used to ac- of the young lady. I saw her once or twice on her quire such a mastery over the love of all around favorite place in the field, but I dared not approach ber, but, though less within the influence of her her-she had no companion but the faithful dog. In attractive manners than some others, I yet shared two weeks she was confined to her bed-and shortly in the general feeling of regard. She was a fre-afterward the family was plunged in new afflictions quent visiter to a small eminence in this immediate by her death. I was inquiring of one of the family neighborhood, and I often followed her thither, relative to the particular disease of which she died, though I was careful not to reach the place until her and heard it suggested that it might have been a departure; and then I have gone around as she did, rapid consumption."

"I think not,” said a very little girl, who had in a low wail. I scarcely believe that he will reshared in the affectionate instruction of the deceased. cover from the loss he has sustained; and other 6 And why ?"

might be equally unconsolable, if they did not feel “Can the heart of a person break to pieces ?” that it is better with Mary now than when she asked the child.

lived." The heart may be broken,” I said.

When I had looked downward to the grave for a “ Then that is it-for I heard mamma tell sister time, and almost into it, that I might the better conthat Miss Mary's heart was broken."

template the character and end of her who rested “I have noticed that the death of an affianced one there, my companion drew my attention to the is more severely felt by a woman, as a severe dis- beauty of what was around us. turbance of affection, than is the death of a husband. "Miss Mary loved to stand here," said he, "and And I suppose this comes from the delicacy of a enjoy the rich sunset. Mark, now, how richly its maiden that shrinks from the utterance of a grief beams are thrown from the windows of yonder which finds vent and sympathy with a widow. I Gothic house beyond the turnpike, and on the new never hear of such a bereavement without deepe dwelling a little this side. A mellowness is in that sorrow for the survivor's sufferings, than I have for light, to soothe where it falls; and the whispering of the mourning wife. God help her who's crushed the southern wind that we now hear, is like the by a grief that she may not openly indulge; who cries of spirits communing with their good sister must hide in her bosom the fire that is consuming below us." her life.”

“You seem now to enjoy the scenery, my friend." The sealed paper was reopened; it contained a rich said I, “as much as almost any other person." bequest to the young woman, and with it was a small “Sir, I have felt, of late, a growing fondness fue piece of paper, containing her request to be buried this place and this scene; and last Sunday, when rebeyond us,

whence she had so often contemplated turning from the afternoon service, I stood here the scene around us. The field was her own pro- almost wrapt in the pleasure which the place afforded perty, by the will of the young man. She relinquished to the departed one, and I have since come to believe all else of his gift. We buried her there. I say that there is something more than book-knowledge we—for though my position was far below hers, necessary to the relish of natural scenery." yet none felt more deeply her loss than those who “May I ask what that something is, which you looked up to admire her. The little paling that sur- think assists us to appreciate the beauty of a land rounds the eminence was erected to keep away the scape?" foot of the thoughtless. Shall we go to see the “Why, sir-perhaps I am wrong, you certainly grave ?"

know better than I-but, it appears to me, my I followed the man into the enclosure. The sods growing sense of enjoyment in this scene is due to which covered the grave of Mary had not yet united; the memory of the virtues of her whom I constantiy and one or two seemed to be worn, as if they had connect with this place, and that enjoyment is fixed been treated with some rudeness. I drew the atten- and augmented by the frame of mind in which I gu tion of my guide to the abrasion.

to, or come from the place of worship." Ah, yes! that is poor Lara's doings," said he. “If I understand you correctly, you have come “Poor dog! I looked around for him at the funeral, to the conclusion that to enjoy nature, our hearts expecting to see him at the grave, but was disap- must be touched, and our affections mellowed by pointed. Every evening since the funeral, just earthly sympathies, and our views expanded and before the sun goes down, and often in the morning elevated by a sense of religious duties." the hours in which Miss Mary was wont to come « Something like that, sir." hither to enjoy the scenery-poor Lara has been "And is not that what is understood by seen stretched out upon the grave, uitering his grief GOD, AND LOVE TO MAN?''

6

LOVE TO

POETRY.- A SONG.

BY GEORGE P. MORRIS.

To me the world's an open book

Of sweet and pleasant poetry; I read it in the running brook

That sings its way toward the sea : It whispers in the leaves of trees,

The swelling grain, the waving grass, And in the cool fresh evening breeze

That crisps the wavelets as they pass

The flowers below--the stars above

In all their bloom and brighuiess giver,
Are, like the attributes of love,

The poetry of earth and heaven.
Thus Nature's volume, read aright,

Attunes the soul to minstrelsy,
Tinging life's clouds with rosy light,

And all the world with poetry.

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And may not sorrow spread her paii, When joy, and hope, and love decay?

Earth's loveliest scenes ; The boons of heaven most cherished;

Fields dressed in gladdening greens, Are drear, when hope has perished :

Spring's beauteousness, Followed by summer's glory,

May fade without the power to bless, As doth a dreamed story.

Why is thy visage o'ershadowed by gloom,
Are Nature's enchantments not scattered around,

Has the rose lost her fragrance, the tulip her bloom, Has the streamlet no longer its mild, soothing sound ?

Say what are thy pleasures-or whence is thy bliss, In thy breast can no movements of sympathy rise ?

Canst thou glance o'er a region so lovely as this, And no bright ray of pleasure enliven thine eyes?

Where are there fields more delightfully drest, In a verdure still fresh’ning with every shower ?

Here are oak-covered mountains, with valleys of rest, Richly clothed in the blossoming sweet scented flower.

Why lingerest thou ever to gaze on that star, Sinking low in the west e'er the twilight is o'er?

While the shadows of evening extending afar Bid the warbler's blithe carol be poured forth no more,

Oh why when the Sabbath bell's pleasantest tone Wakes the soul of devotion in song to rejoice,

Are thy features with sorrow o'erclouded alone, While no sounds but of sadness are heard from thy voice?

It gives me peace to gaze at even, Watching the latest, faintest gleam

Of yon bright traveler of heaven, Reflected in the silver stream ;

For she I love has gently leanedWhile my fond heart with bliss was swelling

Upon my arm, to see descend That brilliant star in light excelling.

Listen, while I tell thee, stranger !

In a brief and hurried measure :
Though my soul drink not of pleasure,

Though mine eyes be sunk in gloom;
Tis not from fear of coming danger,

Nor yet from dread of doom.

The youngest leaves must fall, When summer beams have ceased to play;

The chiming bells give joy no more, Long since the tones have lost their sweetness ;

They now but wake me to deplore The bliss that fled with air-like fleetness,

Blame not my sorrow: chilling pride
Nor clouds my brow nor kills the smile;

For loss of wealth I never sighed,
But all for her I mourn the while.
She was my all, my fairest, dearest, best;
I loved.--I lost her-lears may speak the rest

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