were new, with the fragrance of flowers I had never before seen, and the music of birds whose notes had never before struck my ear and thrilled my heart. When I had reached the top of a broad, swelling, ver5 dant hill, about one and a half mile from the town, I took my position upon the top of a hedge bank. The town and the harbor were before me; and all around were the neat white-washed, straw-thatched cottages, and blooming gardens, and velvet-like fields, enclosed with green and 10 flowering hedges, and shaded with deep verdant trees, and enlivened with gay birds, which alone, of all animated beings seemed, with inanimate nature, to have caught the spirit of the morning, and to be sympathizing and vying with each other in the worship of their Maker. 15 I had not stood there long before I enjoyed the principal object of my search. It was the morning lark, rising and singing towards heaven,-just as Jeremy Taylor has so beautifully described it to our imaginations. I could not have had a better exhibition of it. It satisfied, and more 20 than satisfied, my previous, and most pleasing conceptions of it. I saw one rise, and watched its ascent, and listened to its song, till it was entirely above and beyond my sight. I could only hear its note, more soft, more sweet as it was nearer the home of the blest, and the object of its praise, 25 the throne of its God. I could think of nothing but of some returning angel, or of some sainted spirit released from its service below, and springing from the earth, gaily ascending higher and higher, singing more and more joyously, and resting not 30 from its song or its flight, till it folds its wing and rests its foot by the throne of Him who made it. I could still hear its note, and still I gazed after it, and presently discerned its form, and saw it descend; but its descent was, if possible, more beautiful than its ascent. It returned to 35 earth with such a graceful and easy motion, it seemed as if conscious that it could, at any time, rise again. It I did not intend to give you any description of this hour or of this scene; and you can have no idea of it now. was altogether the happiest hour I have enjoyed since I 40 left my native land. I returned to my lodgings, satisfied, -filled, and feeling as if I had had a glimpse, and caught a note, of heaven. LESSON CXLV.-THE INVALID AND THE POLITICIAN. Murphy. [Enter Feeble in his night-gown.] Quidnunc. [Without.] Hold your tongue, you foolish fellow, he 'll be glad to see me. Brother Feeble! brother Feeble! Feeble. I was just going to bed. Bless my heart! what 5 can this man want? I know his voice. I hope no new misfortune brings him at this hour! [Enter Quid.] Brother Feeble, I give you joy: the nabob's demolished.-Hurrah! Feeb. Lack-a-day, Mr. Quidnunc, how can you serve 10 me thus ? Quid. Suraja Dowla is no more! Hurrah! Feeb. Poor man! he's stark, staring mad. Quid. Our men diverted themselves with killing their bullocks and their camels, till they dislodged the enemy 15 from the octagon, and the counterscarp, and the bungalow Feeb. I'll hear the rest to-morrow morning :-Oh! I'm ready to die! Quid. Odds heart, man, be of good cheer! The new 20 nabob, Jaffer Alley Cawn, has acceded to a treaty; and the English company got all their rights in the Phiemad and the Fushbulhoorums. 25 Feeb. But dear heart, Mr. Quidnunc! why am I to be disturbed for this? Quid. We had but two seapoys killed, three chokeys, four gaul-walls, and two zemindars,-hurrah! Feeb. Would not to-morrow morning do as well for this? Quid. Light up your windows, man! Light up your 30 windows! Chandernagore is taken,-hurrah! Feeb. Well, well, I'm glad of it-good night! [Going.] Feeb. Oh! I shall certainly faint! [Sits down.] Quid. Ay, ay, sit down; and I'll read it to you.-[Be35 gins to read. Feeb. moves away.] Nay, don't run away, I've more news to tell you!-there's an account from Williamsburg in America:-the superintendent of Indian affairs Feeb. Dear sir! dear sir!--[Avoiding him.] Quid. He has settled matters with the Cherokees [Following him.] Feeb. Enough, enough!-[From him.] Quid. In the same manner he did before with the Cataw5 bas.-[After him.] Feeb. Well, well,-your servant-[From him.] Quid. So that the white inhabitants-[After him.] Feeb. I wish you would let me be a quiet inhabitant of my own house 10. Quid. So that the white inhabitants will now be secured by the Cherokees and Catawbas— · Feeb. You'd better go home, and think of appearing before the commissioners : Quid. Go home! no, no: I'll go and talk the matter 15 over at our coffee-house. [Going.] 20 25 Feeb. Do so, do so! Quid. [Returning.] I had a dispute about the balance of power;-pray, now, can you tell Feeb. I know nothing of the matter Quid. Well, another time will do for that.-I have a great deal to say about that-[Going, returns.] Right, I had like to have forgot; there's an erratum in the last Gazette. Feeb. With all my heart Quid. Page 3, 1st col., 1st and 3rd lines,-for bombs, read booms. Feeb, Read what you will Quid. Nay, but that alters the sense, you know.-Well now, your servant. If I hear any more news, I'll come 30 and tell you. 35 Feeb. For Heaven's sake no more: Quid. I'll be with you before you 're out of your first sleep: Feeb. Good night, good night!-[Runs off.] Quid. [Bawling after him.] I forgot to tell you the Emperor of Morocco is dead. So now, I have made him happy. I'll go and knock up my friend Razor, and make him happy, too; and then I'll go and see if anybody is up at the coffee-house, and make them all happy there, 40 too. LESSON CXLVI.-NEW ENGLAND FREEDOM AND ENTERPRISE.- If, after a general survey of the surface of New England, we cast our eyes on its cities and great towns, with what wonder should we behold, did not familiarity render the phenomenon almost unnoticed, men, combined in great 5 multitudes, possessing freedom and the consciousness of strength, the comparative physical power of the ruler less than that of a cobweb across a lion's path,-yet orderly, obedient, and respectful to authority; a people, but no populace; every class in reality existing, which the gene10 ral law of society acknowledges, except one, and this exception characterizing the whole country. The soil of New England is trodden by no slave. In our streets, in our assemblies, in the halls of election and legislation, men of every rank and condition meet, and unite or divide on 15 other principles, and are actuated by other motives, than those growing out of such distinctions. The fears and jealousies, which in other countries separate classes of men, and make them hostile to each other, have here no influence, or a very limited one. Each indi20 vidual, of whatever condition, has the consciousness of living under known laws, which secure equal rights, and guarantee to each whatever portion of the goods of life, be it great or small, chance, or talent, or industry, may have bestowed. All perceive, that the honors and rewards of society 25 are open equally to the fair competition of all; that the distinctions of wealth, or of power, are not fixed in families ; that whatever of this nature exists to-day, may be changed tomorrow, or, in a coming generation, be absolutely reversed. Common principles, interests, hopes, and affections, are the 30 result of universal education. Such are the consequences of the equality of rights, and of the provisions for the general diffusion of knowledge and the distribution of intestate estates, established by the laws framed by the earliest emigrants to New England. 35 If, from our cities, we turn to survey the wide expanse of the interior, how do the effects of the institutions and example of our early ancestors appear, in all the local comfort and accommodation which mark the general condition of the whole country;-unobtrusive, indeed, but substan40 tial; in nothing splendid, but in every thing sufficient and satisfactory. Indications of active talent and practical energy, exist everywhere. With a soil comparatively little luxuriant, and, in great proportion, either rock, or hill, or sand, the skill and industry of man are seen triumphing over the obstacles of nature; making the rock the guardian of the field; moulding the granite, as though it were clay; 5 leading cultivation to the hill-top, and spreading over the arid plain, hitherto unknown and unanticipated harvests. The lofty mansion of the prosperous, adjoins the lowly dwelling of the husbandman; their respective inmates are in the daily interchange of civility, sympathy, and respect. 10 Enterprise and skill, which once held chief affinity with the ocean or the sea-board, now begin to delight the interior, haunting our rivers, where the music of the waterfall, with powers more attractive than those of the fabled harp of Orpheus, collects around it intellectual man and mate15 rial nature. Towns and cities, civilized and happy communities, rise, like exhalations, on rocks and in forests, till the deep and far-resounding voice of the neighboring torrent is itself lost and unheard, amid the predominating noise of successful and rejoicing labor. LESSON CXLVII.-FREEDOM AND PROGRESS.-CHARLES G. ATHERTON. Our forefathers came to this land, seeking refuge from oppression. Despised and insulted by the haughty arbiters of the old world, that meek and suffering, but hardy and faithful band brought to inhospitable and savage 5 shores, their household gods, their principles, their hopes. They were wafted hither by no prosperous gales of royal favor:-no lofty patronage protected their humble troop. The same spirit which led them here,-which supported them under trials and privations almost insupportable,— 10 which nerved their souls against the attacks of hunger, want and savage enemies, this same spirit flowed down to their descendants, and became a part of their being. It was the same spirit which in them prompted resistance to unwarrantable assumptions on the part of the parent coun15 try, and the renunciation of an allegiance that no longer promised protection. It was the same spirit, that, throughout their struggle, nerved their arms and braced their souls, and led them to resolve, to use the words of one of their most able writers, "that wheresoever, whensoever, 20 and howsoever, they might be called to make their exit, they would die free men!" |