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Rhöne, with its villages and castles, and its mixture of rich farms and vast beds and heaps of mountain fragments, deposited by furious torrents. What affects the mind very powerfully on first entering upon these scenes, is the deep dark blue, so intensely deep and overshadowing, of the gorge at its upper end, and at the magnificent proud sweep of the granite barrier, which there shuts it in, apparently without a passage. The mountains rise like vast supernatural intelligences taking a material shapes and drawing around themselves a drapery of awful grandeur ; there is a forehead of power and majesty, and the likeness of a kingly crown above it.

3. Amidst all the grandeur of this scenery, I remember to have been in no place more delighted with the profuse richness, delicacy, and beauty of the Al'pine flowers. The grass of the meadow slopes, in the gorge of the Dala, had a depth and power of verdure, a clear, delicious greenness, that in its effect upon the mind was like that of the atmosphere in the brightest autumnal morning of the year; or rather, perhaps, like the colors of the sky at sunset. There is no such grass-color in the world as that of these mountain meadows. It is just the same at the verge

of the ice oceans of Mount Blănc. It makes you think of one of the points chosen by the Sacred Poët to illustrate the divine benevolence (and I had almost said, no man can truly understand why it was chosen, who has not traveled in Switzer. land), “ Who maketh the grass to grow upon the mountains.

4. And then the flowers, so modèst, so lovely, yệt of such deep ex'quisite hue, enameled in the grass, sparkling ămidst it,

a starry multitude,” underneath such awful brooding mountain forms and icy precipices—how beautiful! All that the poëts have ever said or sung of daisies, vīölets, snow-drops, king-cups, primroses, and all modest flowers, is here outdone by the mute poëtry of the denizens of these wild pastures. Such a meadow slope as this, watered with pure rills from the glăciërs, would have set the mind of Edwards at work in contemplation on the

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Jonathan Edwards, one of the his thirteenth year; graduated with first metaphysicians of his age, au- the highest honors ; and continued thor of an “Essay on the Freedom his residence in the institution for of the Will,” was born in East two years, for the study of theol. Windsor, Connecticut, October 5th, ogy. He first preached to a congre 1703. He entered Yale College in gation in New York, in his nine

beauty of holiness. He has connected these meek and lowly flowers with an image, which none (nủn) of the poets of this world have ever thought of.

5. To him the divine beauty of hõlinèss “made the soul like a field or garden of God, with all manner of pleasant flowers ; all pleasant, delightful, and undisturbed ; enjoying a sweet calm, and the gentle, vivifying beams of the sun. The soul of a true Christian appears

like such a little white flower as we see in the spring of the year ; low and humble on the ground; opening its bosom to receive the pleasant beams of the sun's glory ; rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture ; diffusing around a sweet fragrancy ; standing peacefully and lovingly in the midst of other flowers round about; all in like manner opening their bosoms to drink in the light of the sun.”

6. Věry likely such a passage as this, coming from the soul of the great theölögiän (for this is the poëtry of the soul, and not of the artificial sentiment, nor of the mere worship of nature), will seem to many persons like vīölets in the bosom of a glăc'iër. But no poet ever described the meek, modest flowers so beautifully, rejoicing in a calm rapture. Jonathan Edwards himself, with his grand views of sacred theology and history, his living piëty, and his great experience in the deep things of God, was like a mountain glacier, in one respect, as the "par'ent of perpetual streams,” that are then the deepest, when all the fountains of the world are the driëst; like, also, in another respect, that in climbing his theology you gět very near to heaven, and are in a very pure and bracing atmosphere ; like, again, in this, that it requires much spiritual labor and discipline to surmount his heights, and some care not to fall into the crevăss'es; and like, once more, in this, that when you get to the top, you have a vast,' wide, glorious view of God's great plan, and see things in their chains and connections, which before you only saw separate and piecemeal.

CHEEVER. GEORGE B. CHEEVER was born at Hallowell, Maine, on the 17th of April, 1807. He was graduated at Bowdoin College, September, 1825, studied theology at Andover, was licensed to preach in 1830, and was first settled as pastor over Howard Street church of Salem, Massachusetts. He went to Europe in 1836,

was

teenth year. He preached in North- stalled president of Princeton College ampton twenty-three years : in January, 1758; and died on the missionary to the Indians near Stock- 22d of March of the same year. bridge, Mass., for six years; was in. Vast, (våst), see Note 3, p. 22.

where he spent two years and six months. In 1839 he became pastor of the Allen Street church, New York, and in 1846 of the Church of the Puritans, a position which he still retains. In 1844 he again visited Europe for a year. Dr. Checver is celebrated as a logician. He has a keen analytical mind, and combining fancy with logic, succeeds equally well in allegory and in argumentation IIis numerous and valuable works have gained him an enviable position in Amer. Ican literature. He has written extensively for our ablest reviews and periodicals. lie was a valuable correspondent of the “New York Observer,” when in Europe, and editor of the “New York Evangelist” during 1845 and 1846. He is now a contributor of “The Independent.” His “Lectures on Pilgrim's Progress," published in 1843, and “Voices of Nature,” 1852, are among the ablest of his productions, and indicate most truly his mode and range of thought.

“ Wanderings of a Pilgrim in the Shadow of Mont Blanc and the Yungfrau Alp,” from which the above extract is taken, published in 1846, on his return from his second risit to Europe, met with a very favorable reception. As a writer he is always clear and unimpassioned; he sees and hears and describes, never falling, through excess of feeling, into confusion, or figure, or redundancy of expression. The reader is strengthened by his power, calmed by his tranquillity, and incited to self-denying and lofty views, by his earnest and vigorous presentation of truth.

VII.

150. ALPINE SCENERY.

Α'

BOVE me are the Alps—most glorious Alps

The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,

And throned Eternity in icy halls

Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls
The avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!

All that expands the spirit, yět appalls,
Găther around these summits, as to show
How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yět leave vain man below.
2. Lake Lēman'woos me with its crystal face,-

The mirror, where the stars and mountains view
The stillness of their aspect in each trace

Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue.

There is too much of man here, to look through,
With a fit mind, the might which I behold ;

But soon in me shall loneliness renew

Lē' man or Geneva, a crescent- eighty-four feet. Its waters, which shaped lake of Europe, between are never entirely frozen over, have Switzerland and the Sardinian States. a peculiar deep-blue color, are very Length, forty-five miles; breadth, transparent, and contain a great vafrom one to nine and a half miles; riety of fish. Steam navigation was and greatest depth, nine hundred and introduced in 1823.

Thoughts hid, but not less cherished than of old,
Ere mingling with the herd that penned me in their fold.
8. Clear, plăcid Lēman! thy contrasted lake

With the wide world I've dwelt in is a thing
Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake

Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.

This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from distraction; once I loved

Törn ocean's roar ; but thy soft murmuring
Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved,
That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved
4. It is the hush of night; and all between

Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yệt clear,
Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen,

Save darkened Jura,' whose capped heights appear

Precipitously steep; and drawing near,
There breathes a living frāgrance from the shore,

Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,
Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more.
5. He is an evening reveler, who makes

His life an infancy, and sings his fill;
At intervals, some bird from out the brakes

Starts into voice a moment, then is still.

There seems a floating whisper on the hill ;-
But that is fancy ; for the starlight dews

All silently their tears of love distill,
Weeping themselves ăwāy till they infuse
Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
6. Ye stars! which are the poëtry of heaven,

If, in your bright leaves, we would read the fate
Of men and empires,—'tis to be forgiven,

That in our aspirations to be great,

Our destinies o’erlēap their mortal state, * Jura, (j8'ra), a chain of mount- breadth of thirty miles. One of the ains which separates France from culminating points, and the highest, Switzerland, extending for one hun. is Mount Molesson six thousand five dred and eighty miles in the form of hundred and eighty-eight feet above a curve, from S. Lo N. E., with a mean the level of the sea.

ye are

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And claim a kindred with

you;

for A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star 7. All heaven and earth are still,—though not in sleep,

But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep

All heaven and earth are still! From the high höst

Of stars to the lulled lake, and mountain coast,
All is concentered in a life intense,

Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
But hath a part of being, and a sense
Of that which is of all Creator and Defense.
8. The sky is chānged! and such a change! O Night,

And Storm, and Darkness, ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as the light
Of a dark

eye

in woman! Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
Leaps the live thunder !—not from one lone cloud,

But every mountain now hath found a tongue;
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
9. And this is in the night.-Möst glorious night!

Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,-

A portion of the těmpèst and of thee!

How the lit lake shines,-a phosphoric sea-
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!

And now again 'tis black—and now, the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain mirth,
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
10. Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye,

With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul
To make these felt and feeling, well may be

Things that have made me watchful :-the far roll

of your departing voices is the knoll
Of what in me is sleepless,-if I rest.

But where, of ye, O tempests! is the goal?
Are
ye

like those within the human breast?
Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest?

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