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trees fling down sunny smiles upon groups of violets is, in my opinion. It may be I am partial in this matnestling in the plump moss upon their huge wreathed ter; early life may have its influence ; early impressions roots. On the whole, it is rather pleasant. Still it is may cause me to incline to this side of the question. I not the thing. The sunshine is heartless and the nights am a backwoodsman. I “was brought up in the woods." are decidedly cold. The grass is green and rich, but they are a part of me. They have struck their roots in frequently a chilly wind comes creeping along the air, my soul. Now that I am a denizen of brick walls I and has a peculiar faculty of insinuating itself down dream of them. All the city polishing in the world your back. And how can a man study the picturesque can't polish out my love for them. Often do the throngwith a cold wind down his back. But wait patiently a ing roofs vanish away, and amidst the soft summer sky few days. Perhaps there is a cold, drizzly, misty rain do I see the green graceful branches tossing in the sun. storm in full operation, and nature looks as if perfectly shine. The hard pavements also glide away, and lo! the drowned out. The chill wind rushes through the wet delicate and elastic moss. It is not the rattle of the city shivering trees, the gray spongy clouds drift heavily and I hear. No! it is the rush of the wind and the gurgle slowly overhead the near landscape reeks with mois of the stream. These are not human beings crowded ture, and the more distant with vapor. But wait a little, around, and thronging past. They are trees, and thickI say. There is an enchantment preparing behind the ets, and bushes. They “ do not smell of mortality.”— curtain that will ravish you. Summer is there smiling, Money getting is not their object. They do not wear on tiptoe, with arms extended, preparing to bound. their various tints and colors for flaunting display. In See, the sun has flashed the signal – a broad, bright, a word they are not human. They are are part of the golden ray from the heavens. Ten o'clock in the glorious, glorious wilderness. “ forenoon.” How the great clouds part, seeming as Confessing then to my weakness, I repeat, Summer is though rent asunder by a giant's hand. Off they go, most beautiful in the forests—and in no forests like those and behold the pure soft blue of the naked sky. How of old Sullivan. Grand shadowy and magnificent, bow bright, how sweet the arch, fit canopy for so beautiful the leafy mantles of that romantic region spread out bean earth. The cold ague-giving east wind has melted fore me. What splendor, what beauty, what glory.into a balmy fanning liquid south breeze, and the few London, with your leagues of habitations, and your milclouds yet remaining turn out their “silver lining,” in- lion and a half of people, why you are a mere dot to stead of a grim blackness. Whew! but this broad to one wood I know of in the Delaware mountains. Let blazing food of sunshine is somewhat hot. Hot! yes all your voices be swelled out in one great shout, and it indeed, for it is the real unmistakeable eye-flash of sum- would be drowned in the roar of those pines when an
How it pierces the cold, clammy, rain-drenched ordinary gust is passing through them. But let the gale ground. How its fine essence penetrates into the myri. of the Equinox crash along, and then-stop your ears if ad pores of our great mother, feeling down at the roots you don't want to be deafened. The deep sounds thrill of the thousand flowers and shrubs that e'er long will down to the very bottom of your soul. The centre of shoot
up their slender heads, and smile in the soft skies your nature appears to be shaken. Hurrah for the and wave in the sweet airs, so profuse for three months battle shout of the pine wood! Old ocean is its only at least. The little under-ground fairies that make match when it rears its crest in fury to the tempest. } these structures are busy, very busy. If you doubt it, But it is not always in a rage; it is'nt always roaring. place your ear to the earth and you will hear a hum that A small matter of a breeze, it is true, will set the great must dissipate every doubt. A growing time for the league-blackening forest in a sublime and thundering seeds and roots; all nature rejoices ; life is gushing passion, and it is then that it swings out its deep, stern, out over the earth – upon the air, in the water. Oh awful boom, but the single trees will sometimes murmur June! “ Summer's first and loveliest child,” thou art as gently as the singing of a streamlet. Oh such sweet, indeed beautiful. Like the bright reign of sweet girl. soft, thrilling sounds! Oh the delight with which the hood, in all its virgin delicacy of feeling, in all its cloud- ear bends to listen! Now the swell, then the melting, less radiance of beauty.
melting, melting away, till you are led far into the siWhere is summer the most beautiful ? It is a knotty lence, and wonder what has kept you so long spellquestion, hard to answer. Beautiful is she in fields and bound; and then hark! another wave of bee-like melomeadows, in orchards, parks and graveyards. She dy, rising, high and higher, until the ear is again filled brightens the homes of men, particularly those human with the mellow hum. There is the song of the bee-hives, cities. No matter if she only smiles in a rag- pine for you, reader: what do you think of it? Go to ged, struggling plant on the window sill, or the little the neighboring wood to-morrow, and seat yourself grass plot by the porch, she is welcome in her fresh under the tree, upon the green velvet, the moss has glory, amidst those haunts of the “money changers." lined its roots with, and listen. You will hear this same In the rural districts, as I have just said, she is also song before you have counted twenty — and after you beautiful. She sets the whole farm in motion — plough, have heard it, just let me know whether the description harrow and all : she makes the cattle stand knee deep exceeds the reality. One moment, however let there in clover : she makes the timothy, the rye and the wheat. be no mistake between us. You must find the right bend in the wind as though they were breathing out kind of pine tree. This rich soft music has never swellbroad fitful puffs of smoke: she studs the apple boughs ed forth from the yellow pine—no, no, it is too much of and clothes the winding lanes with thick green velvet, a “loafer” for such sounds. Not that it is dumb—by so that the geese and vagabond cows have a fine time of no means. It “gives tongue” very audibly to every it. But after all she is most beautiful in the forests, that breeze that's going.” But what kind of tongue say
BY S. S. RANDALL.
you? Why, really, sufficient to set the teeth on edge.
They 're whispered in the forest gloom, When a soft breeze glides around its rough, contorted
They ’re murmured in the sparkling stream, limbs, what does it do but yield a sort of airy splutter
They live upon the mountain's bloom,
They shine in summer's golden beam. ing-a broken, confused murmur—a sort of short, jerking noise, as though, after all, it was’nt pleased, although
The wave that rolls in light along,
Has borne their flag in triumph proud, it tried to be. And when the blast comes, look out!
Has heard the glad triumphant song, stop your ears! A thousand serpents, in twining, eye
That victory o'er them poured aloud ; flashing, fang-bearing rage, could not send forth such
The winds have blown their praises free, hissings. Keen, shrill, piercing, they cut through the
Of those who dared be else than slaves, nerves without mercy. Ha! ha! the yellow pine tree,
And bright the bow that liberty,
Has arched above our father's graves. how it rocks within the blast! Ha! ha! the hissing pine tree, how its roused-up anger seethes. But the white pine is a different matter. This is the
Psychological Developments. instrument I mean, whose tones of music thrill upon the ear. Straight, smooth trunk, thick, oval plumage,
" There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, graceful and beautiful, with its cool blue tint, it towers Than your philosophy e'er dreamt of.” up, the King of the forest. Its long, slender, delicate To an enthusiastic imagination, every new developfringes wave to the breeze, and give forth their long- ment of the nature and attributes of the human mind drawn, sighing melody. Melancholy is it in some moods, has a deep and powerful interest. That it possesses joyous in others. In the sultry summer noon-tide it powers as yet untried and unexplained; that this “plant sounds like the grateful ripples of the shaded rill—in of celestial origin” is capable of indefinite and illimitthe dark starry night, like the voice of the one best- able expansion, surpassing even its highest and grandest loved and lost. The morning ray leaps first upon its aspirations in its present circumscribed sphere, there pointed summit – there, lingers the sun-set radiance can exist as little doubt, as of its immense superiority last. Unchanged through the dark and stormy winter, to the masses of material substances with which it is it bears its dark rich hues, meet emblem of Fidelity — surrounded and measurably connected. There are moand in the merry spring time, how bright is its em- ments in the life of every rational and intelligent being, broidery of young fresh plumage. The sunshine throws when the superincumbent pressure of the earthly nature around it a veil of light, a robe of golden gauze, and is unfelt, and the released spirit ascends on buoyant the shower shrouds it in a silvery mist. The rain hums wings to its native and destined element—" shuffles off in its thick branches, so thick by the way, that the this mortal coil” and asserts its congeniality to a higher young partridge might nestle beneath and have hardly and a purer atmosphere. But the vigilant and restless a drop wet its downy breast, pressed closely upon the warders of this “ prison house” the body, soon regain dry brown withered fringes. All hail, thou monarch their temporary dominion and call us back to companof the woods! in all thy grace, thy music and thy glo- ionship with our fellow captives. Were we but caparious beauty.
ble of sustaining these Alights of our better nature, we
should need no revelation from heaven to confirm our Our Fathers's Graves.
wavering faith in the soul's immortality. We should Our father's graves, the grove, the hill,
anticipate the opening of those iron doors which enclose Are hallowed by their presence blest; Their names are whispered in the rill,
us in a region of sin, suffering and humanity—the withThat sparkles round their glorious rest.
drawal of the complicated folds of the dark curtain The winds that fan the mountain side,
which separates us from eternity—and enter at once, Repeat their names, their glories tell,
upon the full fruition of that exalted destiny, which we How in the battle's crimson tide,
are assured, is to dawn upon us when “life's fitful fever They bravely fought and proudly fell.
shall have ended.” Of the things which are to be hereThey sell, and in each freeman's heart,
after, it is perhaps well for us, that we can obtain but Their memory lives in brightest light.
occasional and uncertain glimpses. There is enough Oh! never shall the beam depart,
and more than enough, to excite our highest wonOh! ne'er their same shall sink in night; But round each high and sacred shrine,
der in the developments of the visible world and the A grateful realm shall bow the knee;
ascertained capabilities of our mental and physical They fought for freemen's rights divine,
energies here. It was one of the decrees of omnipoFor thee they died, blest Liberty.
tent wisdom and power, that man should “have do. Go to the field, where once the clang
minion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of battle filled the startled gale,
of the air, and over every living thing that moveth Where once the trumpet's music rang
upon the earth.” The ascendency over the inanimate And death hung out his banner pale;
as well as the animate creation, has been in a great 'Twas there our honor'd fathers strove,
measure, effectually secured by the uncontrollable proBeneath their flag, their rights to shield. Oh! who can tell the patriot's love,
gress of intellectual strength. The very elements have When country calls him to the field.
been subdued and rendered involuntary agents of the
convenience and pleasure and business of our race. In Though silence rests upon the spot, Save murmuring of the leaves and flowers;
their most angry mood, we are accustomed to approach Yet oh! their names are not forgot,
and to grapple with them, with engines of mortal Who braved the storm in earlier hours.
mould, and to wage with them a not unequal warfare.
of nobility, bestowed upon him by the Emperor, shows Observations in Europe, principally in France and Great Britain, the true intellectual dignity of the man. Looking over
by John P. Durbin, D. D., President of Dickinson College- a drawer of old papers, with a friend, he came across In two volumes, New-York: Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff-st., the parchment and tossing it towards him said, “ by
the way, you did not know I was a baron.” We should suppose that time and space were really The volume consists of a life of the author, by Sir annihilated, from the number of volumes issued de- Edward Lytton Bulwer, and his poems and ballads scriptive of tours in Europe by Americans. Amongst translated by the same masterly hand. These glorious these multifarious books of travels, none has pleased us productions are wrought into English with great skill, more than this work by President Durbin. Light, easy ease and beauty, and with an aptitude and faithfulness and sketchy, it neither fatigues with too much detail, which show how thoroughly the distinguished translator nor burthens the mind with long philosophical disquisi- has entered into the spirit of the original. tions upon character, manners and government. The
It would please us much, could we extract liberally author writes in a cheerful spirit, looking at the bright from this beautiful and valuable work; but our limits side of things, and evidently disposed to make the most forbid. We however cannot refrain from quoting the of all he encounters. In this, he offers an example following lines, not because of any superiority they which a few late tourists might follow, with improve-possess over the others, but by reason of their length ment to their works as well as their tempers. Professor being suited to the contracted space of our columnsDurbin brings to his task, a graceful, fluent pen, and an acute well disciplined mind. He describes what he
“When the column of light on the waters is glass'd, has seen in a spirited and graphic manner; and with a As blent in one glow seem the shine and the stream, gusto which evidently shows that he enjoyed deeply But wave after wave through the glory has pass.d, what he saw. Indeed it would not be easy to repress
Just catches, and fires as it catches, the beam.
So honors but mirror on mortals their light, the enthusiasm which the Old World awakens in a de
Not the nan but the place that he passes is bright.” nizen of the New. The aspect of things is so strange
— the customs, manners, habits, &c., of the people are Littell's Living Age--Boston : E. Littell & Co., 1184 Washington. so different that it would be singular if the feelings were
We have received Nos. 1 and 3 of the above work, not aroused. The ancient walled cities—the gray mouldering castles with the ivy clothing battlement and tur- and like them exceedingly. The work itself will give
the cream of all the distinguished foreign periodiret, the manifold spots of mountain, wood and stream, haunted by superstitions, and peopled with legends—the cals, and at a price (12 1-2 cts. for each number) which great contrasts of society, with its courtly splendor and places it within the reach of all. Each number consordid poverty—all these strike the eye and fill the mind tains 64 pages, and is printed on beautiful white paper of the American traveller, with deep interest from their and clear open type. The project is a good one, and perfect novelty. Our author has caught as many of
we heartily wish it success. these salient points as his brief tour would allow.
Harper's Iluminated and New Pictorial Bible. The following is his description of the rural aspect No. 4 of this magnificent work is lying upon our taof Old England from London to Birmingham:
ble. We have before chronicled our admiration of this " The country was indeed beautiful. It is not the garden of noble undertaking, and still possess the same feelings England, but yet the cultivation seemed to be almost perfect. as the work progresses. It is filled with admirable The grass had a deep luxuriance that is rarely seen in America. It seemed like a thick tufted carpet, and the lazy sheep, sleck engravings, whilst the letter press is unrivalled. When fat cattle and well conditioned horses like figures wrought upon completed it will be a splendid monument to the muniit. The swells of ground were covered with golden grain. I ficence and enterprise of the Messrs. Harpers. Lines of green hedge diversificd the picture. Ranges of elms and groups of other trees abounded every where, giving the
The Northern Trareller ; containing the Hudson Rirer Guide, whole scene the appearance of a rich pleasure-ground, delight and tour to the Springs, Lake George and Canada, passing fully varied with light and shade.”
through Lake Champlain, with a description of all places on The work is beautifully “got up” by the Harpers in the route most worthy of notice-New-York : published by J. the best style of those eminent and enterprising publish Disturnell, 102 Broadway, 1814. ers, adorned with several fine plates of St. Paul's, Pa We take great pleasure in recommending this little lais Royal, Wesleyan Theological Institution, the Cata. work to the notice of the public. It contains a descripcombs, Cathedral at Rouen, &c., besides wood cuts and tion of all places of note on the Hudson River, as well a very valuable plan of the fortifications of the city of as the various points of interest, upon the route by the Paris.
way of the Springs, Lakes George and Champlain, to The Poems and Ballads of Schiller, translated by Sir Edward Canada, together with the cities, villages, rivers, bays,
Lyrton Bulwer, Bart., with a brief sketch of the author's life &c., of the latter country. Tables of distances be-New-York: Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff-street, 1844. tween Albany and Montreal, and from the latter place
We regret that we have not more space to devote to to Kingston and Quebec are also given. The work is this charming volume. The name of Schiller is world- not only exceedingly valuable to the tourist, but it is renowned. Few men, if any, have surpassed him in interesting to the general reader. It is beautifully the greatness and choiceness of mental gifts. Ad printed by C. Van Benthuysen & Co., of Albany, and ded to these were high moral qualifications which alto affords a good specimen of the neat and handsome mangether made up a character which the world seldom ner in which these enterprising and industrious publish
The estimation which he placed upon the patentlers issue their volumes.
ONE DOLLAR PER ANNU
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26 Glimpses of the Early History of Albany, by Alfred The Ideal, and the Practical, by S. S. Randall,.... 27 B. Street, (Concluded,)........
17 The American Flag. A Hymn for the approaching Day in Summer, by Richard Felton,....
21 National Anniversary, by E. B. O'Callaghan,.... 29 Names of Clergymen, by T. Romeyn Beck,. 22 Summer Fancies–No. 2, by Alfred B. Street,. 29 Dr. Channing on Poetry,..
22 Brief Notices of some of the deceased Poets of NewThe Misfortunes of getting an Office, by Christo York, by Atticus,....
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23 | Literary Notices,
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