Frondosos, frigorisque grati umbra serpit in herbam LINONIUS. Si quando mater filio veneratior ulla, Sic honoranda magis Linonia Fratribus istis. FRATER. An quercus juvenis, recenti ab orta radice, LINONIUS. 25. Linonia originem claram tulit, ante majorum FRATER. Fac, Fratrum ut numerares annos brevè reductos, LINONIUS. Inter Linonios multi clari senatores, 30. Nomina quæ colunt boni, quæ patria semper. FRATER. Aspice, queis numeris nostrique, quo honoreque digni! LINONIUS. I, juvenis, mecum, si loca honoranda videres, FRATER. 35. Sub tectis utinam nostris succedere velles, LINONIUS. An libros legeres? libri sunt pabula mentis FRATER. Fratribus historiæ, legesque, poemataque, omnes LINONIUS. Linoniæ filii, Seniores atque Tyrones Miscentur pariter, distant discrimine nullo. 16. Hic locus. In atrio illo collegiensi, ubi, si usquam in toto terrarum orbe, licet "desipere in loco." 18. Sedes. Quis Yalensium sub tegmine ulmorum recubans, non sæpe recordatur versus illos Maronicos ? 40. Dant: h. e. doceant. "Fortunate Senex! &c." FRATER. Vincula quæ magis roboris fraternâ unitate Habent? Atque utinam aspiceres nos jungere dextras! LINONIUS. 45. Jungere manus, amicâ pugnâ, vera si fama ; FRATER. O quem te memorem, mendax? Est solvere nunc æs LINONIUS. Quam miseri fratres sunt, nullum nomen habentes 50. Quem faciant præfectum insignem ducere cœtus! 48. Gemina fides, h. e. homines vestris promissis credent, etiam cum de aliis dicatis. 51. Aula custodes, sensus. Sunt nobis duo lampadum curatores, unus nobis erit præses, alter vobis. 54. Ludat mentis imago. Ang. Let him flunk when seeking for College honors. 56. Hypochondria latret. Ang. May the Blues howl around him. 56. Cimice tori.,-animal fœdissimum, spurcissimum et execratissimum, e Tartaro missum ad Sophomores cruciandos. In Australi Medio (infandum !) inveniuntur incredibili magnitudine et latratu. "Non ignarus mali, miseris succurrere disco." 276 A TALE OF ROMANCE. THE village of G-, is one of the most lovely that adorns the "Empire State." Rising in queenly beauty from the margin of the lake whence it takes its name-it is ever remembered by the passing traveller, as full of romantic incident and poetic grandeur. It commands a view of a bed of water, clear as crystalstretching out for miles in extent; its borders decorated, here with a garden and cottage, there with the fruitful field of the husbandman, and yonder a copse-wood; while the whole scene is diversified with every luxuriance of nature. Well do I remember the first time I was tempted to venture upon those waters. Tempted? Aye; for not a few of the lovely ones of creation joined in the urgent request to take a sail by moonlight. A lovely twilight had succeeded a warm September day-and the night breeze, rich with the fragrance of the shore, played gently with the "locks of evening," without awaking a single ripple from its pearly bed. Our company numbering a half dozen friends of my own sex-and as many of the fair-took seats in a small sailboat, and pushed out for an evening's merriment. But our sail flapped too laggard in the wind to promise a quick remove from the shore, and the ready oar was at once impressed into our service. In a trice the land had receded from distinctive view, and the village of G- was quite dim in the evening distance.Heavens! can I ever forget the romance of that scene? Parted from earth, and upon the bosom of the waters; the silver light of the moon reflected from every pearly drop; and to crown its enchantment, the air made rich with the melody of music. O, who does not love to listen to music upon the waters, when the sun hath sunk to his "ocean bed," and the dash of the light oar is in unison with the voice of the charmer? Then it breaks upon the air with a double sweetness, and as it steals along the bosom of the surge, is repeated by a thousand echoes, until every element seems but music's self. Thus did we hold communion with the nymphs of the wave, until long past the "witching hour of night," when we again made for shore, and escorted our lovely attendants to their homes. What wonder that such a village should be the scene of many a tale of love; and what wonder if their wooings should sometimes savor unusually of romance. Of such a tale am I. about to give the recital, and it possibly may reach the eye of some, who will read it with more interest than if it were all a fiction of the brain. Mr. Randolph was a wealthy and highly respectable lawyer in the village of which I have already made mention. He was one of those early pioneers, who, starting with his own character and energies as his only capital, had secured an immense fortune, and acquired by his legal acumen and intellectual power, a very extended influence. In the immediate circle of his friends he was esteemed almost a perfect character. He was the man of liberal heart, the elegant scholar, and the polished gentleman. But with all his excellences, he was the victim of an unpardonable and excessive pride, which often warred with his own happiness; and, as in the development of our story, we shall see, with that of his family. Wealth, with him, was the standard of character. It mattered not of how many virtues of the heart a candidate for his favor might be possessed, if he had not the recommend of a fortune, he must stand abashed in his presence. Harriet R. was the idol of her father's heart. Charmingly beautiful, with an intellect of the noblest mould, she had received at his hand every additional grace which the richest advantages could furnish her. And at this period of our tale, at "blooming seventeen," with a mind enriched by a familiarity with the ancient and modern classics, and matured by the severer studies, she was the admired of her acquaintance, the acknowledged belle of her native village. Far from exhibiting the arrogance, and hauteur we might suppose she would assume, she was none the less distinguished for her simplicity, than for her beauty ;while not one particle of her father's aristocratic pride was incorporated in her character. She was the child of nature; and virtue and intellect were the shrines of her earthly worship. Satisfied of the emptiness of the pleasures pursued by fashion's votaries; and that splendor and parade are often but the ostentatious coverings of wretchedness and gloom, she loved and sought the friendship of those, who in the more unobtrusive walks of life would cultivate the virtues of the heart, and seek to make the social and domestic hearth, the seat of every generous attribute, of every lovely affection. And would it be surprising that such worth had found some one to appreciate it, and reciprocate with her the sentiments of love? Many were the aspiring suitors for her hand. The young scions of aristocracy were constant in their flattering addresses, and neglected no occasion to ingratiate themselves in her regard. Among the demagogues in the court of love, was one Harleigh of the city of New York. He was a representative of one of its first families, and had once been esteemed the pride of his lineage. But like too many of the heirs to fortune and to fame, he fled from the path of virtue to the cup of the wassailer, and was now the prince of fashionable vagabonds.But he was rich, nor was this to some, the only recommendation. His appearance was prepossessing in the extreme. Having seen much of the world, and dissipated in high life, he had acquired the Frenchman's ease and grace, superadded to a seductiveness and fascination almost irresistable. In his wanton smile, laughing eye, and emboldened mien, he had a complete panoply for any scheme of villany-with talents of a most brilliant order, he was without a single principle of virtue or honor. Such was the man whom Mr. R. would have the accepted suitor for the hand of his daughter. He made him welcome at his house, sought every opportunity to prejudice the affections of Harriet in his favor; and seemed bent with all the madness of enthusiasm upon their alliance. But their spirits were too unlike to mingle into one. Harriet's keen glance had penetrated his hypocrisy, had read the vileness of his heart, and she felt to loathe him as a very viper. She scorned the base tribute of his flattery, and had told him at the close of one of his harangues, that his unholy sacrifices were her abomination. But let it not be thought she was unsusceptible of the gentler emotions; she was born to love, and that with an enthusiasm bordering upon idolatry. The glitter of wealth for her had no charms, and it was to the image of virtue that she paid her adoration. Charles Addison had for several years been a student with her father, and was now at that age when the ideality and enthusiasm of youth are ripened into sober and reflecting manhood.But while his virtues had ever commanded the respect of Mr. R. he had never met him on terms of intimacy. Addison was not the favorite of the partial goddess. Necessity compelled him to be the architect of his own fortune. He had resorted to every honorable means to complete his education, and was now at the first dawn of manhood, possessed of brilliant talents, a noble soul, accomplished manners; and was the inheritor of his family heirloom, poverty. He was not poor in other than the false sense of a mercenary age, he was in reality rich-rich in every noble quality of the heart-rich in the graces of mind-and might be deemed prospectively so, after the manner of the world's esti mation. The mutual acquaintance of Harriet and Charles was but a short prelude to the reciprocation of the holiest sentiments of the heart. Their minds were of a kindred mould, and had drunk at the same fountains of intellectual delight. They had worshipped at the same shrine, and communed with the same spirits of romance and of song. A kindred throb pulsated in their bosoms, as they read the thrilling tale of heroic exploit; and their hearts. melted into the same tenderness as they dwelt upon the recital of oppressions and wrongs. The children of sensibility, they seemed created to admire the lovely of creation; and in their admiration of the beautiful and good, they paid to each other the homage of their hearts. |
