and let them grow at their own leisure after- | few years; and then, returning home to them wards. In like manner, let no man, Bachelor or Benedict, be his age beyond the limit of conversational confession, fear to lay out a nursery-garden,-to fill it with young seedlings, and thenceforward to keep planting away, up hill and down brae, all the rest of his life. Besides, in every stage how interesting, both a wood and sap tree, and a flesh and blood child! Look at pretty, ten-year-old, rosy-cheeked, golden-haired Mary, gazing, with all the blue brightness of her eyes, at that large dew-drop, which the sun has let escape unmelted even on into the meridian hours, on the topmost pink-bud, within which the teeming leaf struggles to expand into beauty, the topmost pink-bud of that little lime-tree, but three winters old and half a spring!-Hark! that is Harry, at home on a holiday, rustling like a roe in the coppice-wood, in search of the nest of the blackbird or mavis; -yet ten years ago that rocky hillside was unplanted, and "that bold boy, so bright and beautiful," unborn. Who, then, be his age what it may, would either linger, "with fond, reluctant, amorous delay," to take unto himself a wife, for the purpose of having children, or to inclose a waste for the purpose of having trees. At what time of life a human being-man or woman-looks best, it might be hard to say. A virgin of eighteen, straight and tall, bright, blooming, and balmy, seems, to our old eyes, a very beautiful and delightful sight. Inwardly we bless her, and pray that she may be as happy as she is innocent. So, too, is an Oak-tree about the same age, standing by itself, without a twig on its straight, smooth, round, glossy, silver stem for some feet from the ground, and then branching out into a stately flutter of dark-green leaves; the shape being indistinct in its regular but not formal over-fallings, and over-foldings, and overhangings, of light and shade. Such an Oaktree is indeed truly beautiful, with all its tenderness, gracefulness, and delicacy-ay, a delicacy almost seeming to be fragile as if the cushat, whirring from its concealment, would crush the new spring-shoots, sensitive almost as the gossamer, with which every twig is intertwined. Leaning on our staff, we bless it, and call it even by that very virgin's name; and ever thenceforth behold Louisa lying in its shade. Gentle reader, what it is to be an old, dreamy, visionary, prosing poet! Let any one who accuses trees of laziness in growing only keep out of sight of them for a under cloud of night, all at once open his eyes, of a fine, sunny, summer's morning, and ask them how they have been since he and they mutually murmured farewell! He will not recognize the face or the figure of a single tree. That sycamore, whose top-shoot a cow, you know, browsed off, to the breaking of your heart, some four or five years ago, is now as high as the "riggin" of the cottage, and is murmuring with bees among its blossoms quite like an old tree. What precocity! That wych elm, hide-bound as it seemed of yore, and with only one arm that it could hardly lift from its side, is now a Briareus. Is that the larch you used to hop over?—now almost fit to be a mast of one of the fairy fleet on Windermere! You thought you would never have forgotten the Triangle of the Three Birches, but you stare at them now as if they had dropped from the clouds! And since you think that beech-that round hill of leavesis not the same shabby shrub you left sticking in the gravel, why call the old gardener hither, and swear him to its identity on the Bible? Before this confounded gout attacked our toe we were great pedestrians, and used to stalk about all over the banks and braes from sunrising to sunsetting, through all seasons of the year. Few sights used to please us more than that of a new Mansion-house, or Villa, or Cottage ornee, rising up in some sheltered, but open-fronted nook, commanding a view of a few bends of a stream or river winding along old lea, or rich holm ploughed-fields,―sloping uplands, with here and there a farm-house and trees, and in the distance hill-tops quite clear, and cutting the sky, wreathed with mists, or for a time hidden in clouds. It set the imagination and the heart at work together to look on the young hedgerows and plantations, belts, clumps, and single trees, hurdled in from the nibbling sheep. Ay, some younger brother who, twenty, or thirty, or forty years ago, went abroad to the East, or the West, to push his fortune, has returned to the neighbourhood of his native vale at last, to live and to die among the braes where once, among the yellow broom, the school-boy sported gladsome as any bird. Busy has he been in adorning-perhaps the man who fixes his faith on Price on the Picturesque, would say in disfiguring the inland haven where he has dropped anchor, and will continue to ride till the vessel of life parts from her moorings, and drifts away on the shoreless sea of eternity. For our own parts, we are not easily offended by any conformation into which trees can be thrown-the bad taste of another must not be suffered to throw us into a bad temper-and as long as the trees are green in their season, and in their season purple, and orange, and yellow, and refrain from murdering each other, to our eye they are pleasant to look upon-to our ear it is music, indeed, to hear them all a murmur along with the murmuring winds. Hundreds-thousands of such dwellings have, in our time, arisen all over the face of Scotland; and there is room enough, we devoutly trust, and verily believe, for hundreds and thousands more. what pleasanter proof! And, therefore, may Of a people's prosperity all the well-fenced woods make more and more wonderful shoots every year. among their shelter, may not a single slate be Beneath and blown from the blue roof, peering through the trees, on the eyes of distant traveller, as he wheels along on the top of his most gracious majesty's mail-coach;-may the dryads soon wipe away their tears for the death of the children that must, in thinnings, be "wede away;"-and may the rookeries and heronries of Scotland increase in number for the long space of ten thousand revolving years! Not that we hold it to be a matter of pure indifference how people plant trees. an eye for the picturesque, the sublime, and We have the beautiful, and cannot open it without seeing at once the very spirit of the scene. who have had the happiness to be born among O ye the murmurs of hereditary trees! can ye be 165 | blind to the system pursued by that planter- THE SWAN SONG OF PARSON AVERY. [John Greenleaf Whittier, born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, 1808. A member of the Society of Friends, and one of the most distinguished of American poets. His early years were occupied in the labours of his father's farm; he then engaged in newspaper work, and distinguished himself as an earnest student, and as an earnest advocate for the abolition of slavery. In 1840 he removed to Amesbury, Masachussetts, where he continues to reside (1873). Numerous editions of his works have been published in America, and several in England; of these the most important are: Mogg Megone: The Bridal of Pennacook; Legendary Ballads; Foices of Freedom; Songs of Labour; The Chapel of the Hermits; The Panorama; Home Ballads; Poems and When the reaper's task was ended, and the summer wearing late, Pleasantly lay the clearings in the mellow summer morn, Broad meadows reached out seaward the tided creeks between, Yet away sailed Parson Avery, away where duty led, And the voice of God seemed calling, to break the living bread All day they sailed: at nightfall the pleasant land-breeze died, Blotted out were all the coast-lines, gone were rock, and wood, and sand; Grimly anxious stood the skipper with the rudder in his hand, And questioned of the darkness what was sea and what was land. And the preacher heard his dear ones, nestled round him, weeping sore: "Never heed, my little children! Christ is walking on before To the pleasant land of heaven, where the sea shall be no more." All at once the great cloud parted, like a curtain drawn aside, There was wailing in the shallop, woman's wail and man's despair, From his struggle in the darkness with the wild waves and the blast, There a comrade heard him praying, in the pause of wave and wind: "All my own have gone before me, and I linger just behind; Not for life I ask, but only for the rest thy ransomed find! "In this night of death I challenge the promise of thy word!— Let me see the great salvation of which mine ears have heard! Let me pass from hence forgiven, through the grace of Christ, our Lord! In the baptism of these waters wash white my every sin, When the Christian sings his death song, all the listening heavens draw neat, And the angels, leaning over the walls of crystal, hear How the notes so faint and broken, swell to music in God's ear. The ear of God was open to his servant's last request; As the strong wave swept him downward the sweet hymn upward pressed And the soul of Father Avery went, singing, to its rest. There was wailing on the mainland, from the rocks of Marblehead; And still the fishers outbound, or scudding from the squall, When they see the white waves breaking on the Rock of Avery's Fall! CALEB WILLIAMS. (William Godwin, born at Wisbeach, Cambridge shire, 3d March, 1756; died in London, 7th April, 1836. He laboured for five years as a dissenting minister, and then devoted himself to authorship. His political opinions were of the advanced liberal school, and he openly sympathized with the French revolution at a time when it was dangerous to avow such sympathy. He was not prosecuted, however, and his talents as an author won reputation, and obtained for him in his closing years a lucrative appointment in one of the public offices. His works are: Political Justice; Life of Geofrey Chaucer; Life of the Earl of Chatham; On Popu lation, being an answer to the celebrated theory of Malthus; History of the Commonwealth of England, &c. Cloudesley; and Fleetwood, or the New Man of Feeling. He wrote a tragedy, Faulkner, which was hissed off the stage Caleb Williams achieved extensive popularity. Sir T. N. Talfourd wrote of it: "There is no work of fiction which so rivets the attention-no tragedy which exhibits a struggle more sublime, or sufferings more in His novels are: Caleb Williams: St. Leon; Mandeville; tense than this; yet to produce the effect no complicated machinery is employed."] [Falkland, a country gentleman of generous disposition but morbidly sensitive to every wind that might tarnish his personal fame, was publicly insulted and, struck by a big boorish squire. Falkland in his frenzy of shame killed the man. Two peasants were charged with the murder and hung. Falkland, a prey to keenest remorse, devoted his life to charity, and to the fostering of that good name for which he had sacrificed so much. His secretary, Caleb Williams-who narrates the events-surprised the secret. Then followed persecution on the part of Falkland, and wild efforts on the part of Williams to escape beyond his influence. At length, worn out and despairing, having been in prison and denounced as a thief, Caleb is resolved to bring matters to a crisis.] All is over. I have carried into execution my meditated attempt. My situation is totally changed. I now sit down to give an account of it. For several weeks after the completion of this dreadful business, my mind was in too tumultuous a state to permit me to write. I think I shall now be able to arrange my thoughts sufficiently for that purpose. How wondrous, how terrible are the events that have intervened since I was last employed in a similar manner! It is no wonder that my thoughts were solemn, and my mind filled with horrible forebodings! Having formed my resolution, I set out from Harwich for the metropolitan town of the county in which Mr. Falkland resided. Gines (a detective), I well knew, was in my rear. That was of no consequence to me. He might wonder at the direction I pursued, but he could not tell with what purpose I pursued it. My design was a secret, carefully locked up in my own breast. It was not without a sentiment of terror that I entered a town which had been the scene of my long imprisonment. I proceeded to the house of the chief magistrate the instant I arrived, that I might give no time to my adversary to counterwork my proceeding. I told him who I was, and that I was come from a distant part of the kingdom for the purpose of rendering him the medium of a charge of murder against my former patron. My name was already familiar to him. He answered, that he could not take cognizance of my deposition; that I was an object of universal execration in that part of the world; and he was determined upon no account to be the vehicle of my depravity. I warned him to consider well what he was doing. I called upon him for no favour; I only applied to him in the regular exercise of his function. Would he take upon him to say that he had a right at his pleasure to suppress a charge of this complicated nature? I had to accuse Mr. Falkland of repeated murders. The perpetrator knew that I was in possession of the truth upon the subject; and knowing that, I went perpetually in danger of my life from his malice and revenge. I was resolved to go through with the business, if justice were to obtained from any court in England. Upon what pretence did he refuse my deposition? I was in every respect a competent witness. was of age to understand the nature of an oath; I was in my perfect senses; I was untarnished by the verdict of any jury, or the sentence of any judge. His private opinion of my character could not alter the law of the land. I demanded to be confronted with Mr. Falkland, and I was well assured I should substantiate the charge to the satisfaction of the whole world. If he did not think proper to apprehend him upon my single testimony, I should be satisfied if he only sent him notice of the charge, and summoned him to appear. I He The magistrate, finding me thus resolute, thought proper a little to lower his tone. no longer absolutely refused to comply with my requisition, but condescended to expostulate with me. He represented to me Mr. Falkland's health, which had for some years been exceedingly indifferent; his having been once already brought to the most solemn examination upon this charge; the diabolical malice in which alone my proceeding must have ori ginated; and the tenfold ruin it would bring | I met at the house of the magistrate consisted down upon my head. To all these representa of several gentlemen and others selected for tions my answer was short. "I was determined the purpose; the plan being, in some respects, to go on, and would abide the consequences." A summons was at length granted, and notice, sent to Mr. Falkland of the charge preferred against him. as in the former instance, to find a medium between the suspicious air of a private examination, and the indelicacy, as it was styled, of an examination exposed to the remark of every casual spectator. I can conceive of no shock greater than that I received from the sight of Mr. Falkland. His appearance on the last occasion on which we met had been haggard, ghost-like, and wild, energy in his gestures, and frenzy in his aspect. It was now the appearance of a corpse. He was brought in in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost destroyed by the journey he had just taken. His visage was colourless; his limbs destitute of motion, almost of life. His head reclined upon his bosom, except that now and then he lifted it up, and opened his eyes with a languid glance; immediately after which he sunk back into his former apparent insensibility. He seemed not to have three hours to live. He had kept his chamber for several weeks; but the summons of the magistrate had been delivered to him at his bedside, his orders respecting letters and written papers being so peremptory that no one dared to disobey them. Upon reading the paper he was seized with a very dangerous fit; but as soon as he recovered he insisted upon being conveyed, with all practical expedition, to the place of appointment. Falkland, in the most helpless state, was still Falkland, firm in command, and capable to extort obedience from every one that approached him. Three days elapsed before any further step could be taken in this business. This interval in no degree contributed to tranquillize my mind. The thought of preferring a capital accusation against, and hastening the death of, such a man as Mr. Falkland, was by no means an opiate to reflection. At one time I commended the action, either as just revenge (for, the benevolence of my nature was in a great degree turned to gall), or as necessary selfdefence, or as that which, in an impartial and philanthropical estimate, included the smallest evil. At another time I was haunted with doubts. But in spite of these variations of sentiment, I uniformly determined to persist! I felt as if impelled by a tide of unconquerable impulse. The consequences were such as might well appal the stoutest heart. Either the ignominious execution of a man whom I had once so deeply venerated, and whom now I sometimes suspected not to be without his claims to veneration; or a confirmation, perhaps an increase, of the calamities I had so long endured. Yet these I preferred to a state of uncertainty. I desired to know the worst; to put an end to the hope, however faint, which had been so long my torment; and, above all, to exhaust and finish the catalogue of expedients that were at my disposition. My mind was worked up to a state little short of frenzy. My body was in a burning fever with the agitation of my thoughts. When I laid my hand upon my bosom or my head, it seemed to scorch them with the fervency of its heat. I could not sit still for a moment. I panted with incessant desire that the dreadful crisis I had so eagerly invoked were come, and were over. After an interval of three days, I met Mr..that, if Mr. Falkland were permitted to persist Falkland in the presence of the magistrate to whom I had applied upon the subject. I had only two hours' notice to prepare myself; Mr. Falkland seeming as eager as I to have the question brought to a crisis, and laid at rest for ever. I had an opportunity, before the examination, to learn that Mr. Forester was drawn by some business on an excursion on the continent; and that Collins, whose health when I saw him was in a very precarious state, was at this time confined with an alarming illness. His constitution had been wholly broken by his West Indian expedition. The audience What a sight was this to me! Till the moment that Falkland was presented to my view my breast was steeled to pity. I thought that I had coolly entered into the reason of the case (passion, in a state of solemn and omnipotent vehemence, always appears to be coolness to him in whom it domineers), and that I had determined impartially and justly. I believed in his schemes, we must both of us be completely wretched. I believed that it was in my power, by the resolution I had formed, to throw my share of this wretchedness from me, and that his could scarcely be increased. It appeared therefore to my mind, to be a mere piece of equity and justice, such as an impartial spectator would desire, that one person should be miserable in preference to two; that one person rather than two should be incapacitated from acting his part, and contributing his share to the general welfare. I thought that in this business I had risen superior to personal |