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" The places which I revisit, and the books I read over again, still smile upon me with a fresh novelty.”—MONTAIONE.
AFTER the lapse of many years, I have ever ornamented with mignonette, and other again been reading Mackenzie's novels, the sweet-scented herbs and flowers, elegantly “Man of Feeling," the “Man of the World,” planted in china vases, as were other parts and“ Julia de Roubigné." The first of these, of his room; and that Cowper had always the “ Man of Feeling," brought to mind been fond of plants, and when be lived in the many delightful enjoyments of by-gone Temple used every year to purchase myrtles days:
in Covent Garden. And I found other “It opened all the cells
lovers of flowers and gardens, Cowley, EveWhere memory slept." CowPER. lyn, Temple, Shakspeare, Milton, Thomson. I saw again the old stone house in the Listen to Cowley : country, where I passed so many pleasant "God the first garden made, and the first city, summers; the garden, more beautiful to my Cain." eyes than any other which has since greeted “Who, that has reason, and his smell, them, with its marygolds, ladyslippers, vio
Would not among roses and jasmin dwell,
Rather than all his spirits choke lets, roses, lilies, its hop-vines at the end of
With exhalations of dirt and smoke, the walks, beautiful and graceful; the mag-! And all th' uncleanness which does drown nificent elm trees at the foot of the garden, In pestilential clouds a populous town !" on the banks of a stream, where I have There is a fine description of flowers in “ A fished so many hours; the old open garret, Winter's Tale." and in “ Lucidas.” Thomwith its perfume from dried herbs, which son has elegantly pictured forth the beauties hung from every beam ; the pleasant twitter- of flowers, and his lines seem to possess a ing of the martins on the roofs, during the fragrance in this lovely month of May: early fragrant morning hours, again sounds in my ear. I had no care or anxiety but “ At length the finish'd garden to the view the sole one, to discover how to cram the Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. greatest amount of enjoyment into each pass
Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace; ing day. How delicious were the bread
Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first;
The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue, and butter, and milk, and vegetables. And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes; Flowers were always placed on the break- The yellow wall-flower, stain’d with iron brown, fast and tea table-a retined practice. The Avd lavish stock that scents the garden round;
From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed, hour of tea-time was delightful. How often
Anemones; auriculas, enrich'd have I looked out on the garden and trees, With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves; and seen the sun set in all its glory, irradiat And full ranunculas of glowing red. ing the hills across the stream,
| Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays
Her idle freaks; from family diffused " While admiration feeding at the eye, To family, as flies the father dust, And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene." The varied colors run; and while they break
On the charm'd eye, the exulting florist marks That was the period of life when the heart With secret pride the wonders of his hand. promised what the fancy drew. The rainy No gradual bloom is wanting, from the bud, days were generally spent in reading some
First born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes;
Nor byacinths of purest virgin white, old novel, the effects of which I have never
Low bent, and blushing inwards; nor jonquilles, forgotten, but even now most gratefully of potent fragrance; nor narcissus fair, remember. From the custom of placing As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still flowers on the table arose my early love Nor broad carnations, nor gay spotted pinks, for them, a love which has increased with
Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask rose.
" Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells, time. And I felt proud when in after years With hues on hues expression cannot paint, I read that Gray's chamber windows were The breath of nature, and her endless bloom."
It has been beautifully said, put but a rose, able countenance, and Harley, who prided or a lily, or a violet on your table, and you himself in his skill in physognomy, becomes and Lord Bacon have a custom in common; interested with him, although he sees him for that great and wise man was in the refuse to give money to a beggar, under the habit of having the flowers in season set plea that he had no change, but when they upon his table, morning, we believe, noon adjourn to a neighboring inn, and play cards, and night; that is to say, all his meals, for the benevolent old man produces ten shildinner in his time was taken at noon; and lings for markers for his score; to the surprise why should he not have flowers at all his of no one Harley is fleeced. We afterwards meals, sceing that they were growing all see the brave, affectionate man, listening to day? Now here is a fashion that shall last the sad story of Miss Atkins. He visits Bedyou for ever, if you please, never changing lam, and sees a poor crazed thing lamenting with silks and velvets and silver forks, nor the loss of her lover. depending upon the caprice of fine gentlemen
“ Separate from the rest stood one, whose apor ladies, who have nothing but caprice and pearance had something of superior dignity. Her change to give them importance and a sen- face, though pale and wasted, was less squalid sation. Does any reader misgive himself, than those of the others, and showed a dejection
of that decent kind which moves our pity unand fancy that to help himself to such com- mixed with horror; upon her, therefore, the eyes forts as these would be trifling. Then was of all were immediately turned. The keeper, who Bacon a tritler, then was the great Condé a accompanied them, observed it
. This, said be, is trifler, and the old republican Ludlow, and a young lady, who was born to ride in her coach all the great and good spirits that have heard is true, by a young gentlenian, her equal in
and six. She was beloved, if the story I bare loved flowers, and Miltou's Adam himself; birth, though by no means her match in fortune; nay, Heaven itself, for Leaven made these but love, they say.is blind, and so she fancied him harmless elegances, and blessed them with as much as he did her. Her father, it seems, the universal good-will of the wise and in- would not hear of their marriage, and threatened nocent. The sanie mighty energy which Upon this the young gentleman took a voyage to
to turn her out of doors, if ever she saw him again. whirls the earth round the sun, and crashes the West Indies, in hopes of bettering bis fortune the heaven with thunderbolts, produces the and obtaining his mistress; but he was scarce lilies of the valley, and the dew-drops that landed when he was seized with one of the fevers
wbich are common in those islands, and died in a keep them fair. I can truly say:
few days, lamented by every one that knew him.
This news soon reached his mistress, who was at “* All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams the same time pressed by her father to marry a
Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall, rich miserly fellow, who was old enough to be her Like Banquo's offspring ; floating past me seems grandfather. The death of her lover had no effect
My childhood in this childishness of mine. on her inhuman parent; he was only tbe more I care not, 'tis a glimpse of auld lang syne.'” earnest for her marriage with the man he had
provided for her, and what between her despair
at the death of the one, and her aversion to the The style of Mackenzie's novels (a blend-other, the poor young lady was reduced to the ing of Addison and Sterne) is sweet in the condition you see her in. But God would not extreme. It glides along like a beautiful prosper such cruelty; her father's aff:rirs soon
after went to wreck, apd he died almost a beggar. stream through a picturesque country, Though the story was told in very plain language, among fruitful meadows, pleasant woods, it had particularly attracted Harley's notice; he mirroring the blue sky and floating clouds. had given it the tribute of soine tears. The unNothing can be more unpretending than fortunate young lady had till now seemed enthe plot of the “ Man of Fceling," and the tranced in thought, with her eyes fixed on a little
garnet ring she wore on her finger; she turned adventures which happen to Harley are them now on Harley. 'My Billy is no more! do likely to happen to any man. He departs you weep for my Billy! Blessings on your tears ! from home to visit London; on the road he I would weep too, but my brain is dry; and it meets a beggar and his dog; the beggar re- Harley. Be comforted, young lady, said he, your
burns, it burns, it burns ! She drew nearer to lates some incidents of his life. In London Billy is in heaven! Is he, indeed? and shall we Harley falls among sharpers; one of them, a meet again ? and shall that frightful man (pointyoung man, voluble and plausible, converses ing to the keeper) not be there? Alas! I am with him about the play-house, opera, oc- grown naughty of late! I have almost forgotten currences in high life, the reigning beauties; can, I pray; and sometimes I sing; when I
to think of heaven, yet I pray sometimes; when I
I am another of thein is an old man, with a vener- saddest, I sing : you shall hear me-hush!
Light be the earth on Billy's breast,
our ignorance of her christian name adds And green the sod that wraps his grave.'
some indefinable charm to the interest we “There was a plaintive wildness in the air not to take in Miss Walton. His slight feelings of be withstood; and except the keeper's there was
S jealousy and unhappiness when he hears she not an unmoistened eye around her. “Do you weep! again!' said she; 'I would not have you weep: is to be married to Sir Harry Benson, are you are like my Billy; you are, believe me; just natural and exquisitely described. He walks so he looked when he gave me this ring; poor out, he sits down on a little seat which comBilly ! 'twas the last time ever we met!
mands an extensive prospect around the ''Twas when the seas were roaring.'
house. He leans on his hand, and scores I love you for resembling my Billy; I shall the ground with his stick. “Miss Walton never love any man like him. She stretched out I married !" says he: “but what is that to her hand to Harley; he pressed it between both of his, and bathed it with his tears. Nay, that is
me? May she be happy; her virtues deBilly's ring,' said she, you cannot have it, indeed: serve it; .to me her marriage is otherwise but here is another, look here, which I plaited to indifferent. I had romantic dreams! They day of some gold thread from this bit of stuff; are fled ! it is perfectly indifferent.” Poor, will you keep it for my sake? I am a strange girl; I diffident, true-hearted Harley: death gradbut my heart is harmless : my poor heart i it will burst some day: feel how it beats! She pressed ually, step by step, wooes him to the silent his hand to her bosom, then holding her head grave. He feelingly says :in the attitude of listening: 'Hark! one, two, three! « There is a certain dignity in retiring from life be quiet, thou little trembler ; my Billy is cold !
at a time when the infirmities of age have not but I had forgotten the ring.' She put it on his
sapped our faculties. This world, my dear Charles, finger. Farewelll I must leave you now. She
was a scene in which I never much delighted. I would have withdrawn her hand; Harley held it
was not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the to his lips. I dare not stay longer; my head
dissipation of the gay; a thousand things occurred throbs sadly; farewell!' She walked with a hurried
where I blushed for the impropriety of my conduct step to a little apartment at some distance. Har
when I thought on the world, though my reason ley stood fixed in astonishment and pity; his
told me I should have blushed to have done other. friend gave money to the keeper. Harley looked
wise. It was a scene of dissimulation, of restraint, on his ring. He put a couple of guineas into the
of disappointment. I leave it to enter on that state man's hand. Be kind to that unfortunate.' He
which I have learned to believe is replete with the burst into tears, and left them.”
genuine happiness attendant upon virtue. I look
back on the tenor of my life with the consciousness The narrative of the veteran Edwards has of few great offenses to account for. There are likewise drawn tears from many an eye. blemishes I confess, which deform in some degree But the most interesting part of the work is the picture; but I know the benignity of the Suthe account of Harley's distant. respectful | preme Being, and rejoice at the thoughts of its exand sincere love for Miss Walton.
ertion in my favor. My mind expands at the
Harley's thought. I shall enter into the society of the ideas of the beautiful were not always to be blessed, wise as angels, with the simplicity of childefined, nor indeed such as the world would dren.' He had by this time clasped my hand, and always assent to. A blush, a phrase of affa. | found it wet by a tear which had just fallen upon it. bility to an inferior, a téar at a moving tale, time silent. At last, with an attempt at a look of
His eye began to moisten too; we sat for some were wo ni like the cestus of Cytherea. To more composure: "There are are some remembe near Miss Walton, to walk about the brances,' said Harley, 'which rise involuntarily on grounds surrounding her mansion, sufficed for
my heart, and make me almost wish to live. I the ideal love of Harley.
have been blessed with a few friends, who redeem
my opinion of mankind. I recollect with the ten" The air of paradise did fan the house,
derest emotion the scenes of pleasure I have passed
among them; but we shall meet again, my friend, And angels offic'd all."
never to be separated. There are some feelings
which perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the A few mornings ago I rose about day-world. The world is in general selfish, interested, break. The air was soft and pleasant, and and unthinking, and throws the imputation of rothe young grass and leaves were of a moist mance or melancholy on every temper more susbright green. On looking upward, I saw
ceptible than its own. I cannot think but in those
regions which I contemplate, if there is any thing one star shining mildly through the branches
olary. through the branches of mortality left about us, that these feelings of a tree; it was fair, distant, pure. I looked will subsist'; they are called—perhaps they areat it with admiration, with a subdued joy ; / weaknesses here; but
weaknesses here; but there may be some better such as was my admiration for that star, so
modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve it seems to me was Harley's love for Miss last words. He had scarcely finished them when
the names of virtues.' He sighed as he spoke these Walton. I have often thought, too, that the door opened, and his aunt appeared leading in
Miss Walton. "My dear,' says she, “here is Miss, the wind; he waved his hand as if he mimicked its Walton, who has been so kind as to come and in motion. There was something predictive in his quire for you herself' He rose from his seat. 'If look! Perhaps it is foolish to remark it, but there to know Miss Walton's goodness,' said he, 'be a are times and places when I am a child at those title to deserve it, I have some claim.' She begged things. I sometimes visit his grave; I sit in the him to resume his sent, and placed herself on the hollow of the tree. It is worth a thousand homisofa beside him. I took my leave. Miss Margery lies; every noble feeling rises within me! every accompanied me to the door. He was left with beat of my heart awakens a virtue! But it will Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously about make you hate the world. No; there is such an his health. 'I believe,' said he, from the accounts air of gentleness around, that I can hate nothing ; which my physicians unwillingly give me, that but as to the world, I pity the men of it." they have no great hopes of my recovery. She started as he spoke; but recollecting herself imme Hazlitt, in one of his essays, observes : diately, endeavored to flatter him into a belief that “Of the 'Man of the World' I cannot think his apprehensions were groundless. “I know,' said he, • that it is usual with persons at my time of life so favorably as some others; nor shall I to have these hopes, which your kindness suggests; dwell on the picturesque and romantic beaubut I would not wish to be deceived. To meet ties of Julia de Roubigné, the early favorite death as becomes a man is a privilege bestowed on of the author of Rosamond Gray; but of the I think I can ever be better prepared for it than Man of Feeling I would speak with grateful now: it is that chiefly which determines the fitness recollections : nor is it possible to forget the of its approach. Those sentiments,' answered sensitive, irresolute, interesting Harley ; and Miss Walton, are just ; but your good scuse, Mr. I that lone figure of Miss Walton in it, that Harley, will own, that life has its proper value. floats in the horizon, dim and ethereal, the it is to be desired. To virtue has the Supreme Di day-dream of her lover's youthful fancyrector of all things assigned rewards enough even
better, far better than all the realities of here to fix its attachment. The subject began to life.” overpower her. Harley lifted his eyes from the ground. There are," said he, in a very low voice, and material age of ours, have neither time
A great many readers, in this artificial there are attachments, Miss Walton.' '. His glance met hers. They both betrayed a confusion, and nor taste to study the minute and refined were both instantly withdrawn. He paused some beauties of a genius like Mackenzie. His moments. I am in such a state as calls for sin- colors are too delicately laid on, the shading cerity; let that also excuse it
. It is perhaps the last too exquisitely clear, to please a vitiated or time we shall ever meet. I feel something partic- uneducated taste, which must be startled ularly solemn in the acknowledgment; yet my heart swells to make it, awed as it is by'a sense of into admiration by something far-fetched, my presumption, by a sense of your perfections.' violent, and exaggerated. The more fantasHe paused again. Let it not offend you, to know tical and unlike to real life a story, and the their power over one so unworthy. It will, I be characters described in it, are drawn, the lieve, soon cease to beat, even with that feeling which it shall lose the latest. To love Miss Wal- more sure they are to please the public. A ton could not be a crime ; if to declare it is one, monster whom the world ne'er saw, combinthe expiation will be made! Her tears were now ing genins and virtue, ignorance and unmitflowing without control. 'Let me entreat you,' igated depravity, love and fiendishness, besaid she,' to have better hopes. Let not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can put any value
nevolence and meanness, a character which on it, I will not pretend to misunderstand you—often appears in modern works of fiction, is I know your worth—I have known it long—I have loudly praised. esteemed it—what would you have me say? I have loved it as it deserved. He seized her hand; “These are the volumes that enrich the shops ; a languid color reddened his cheek; a smile bright These pass with admiration through the world." ened faintly in his eye. As he gazed on her it
Roscommon. grew dim, it fixed, it closed. He sighed, and fell back on his seat. Miss Walton screamed at the Though I doubt if they will bring their ausight. His aunt and the servants rushed into the thors to immortal fame.
There is no room; they found them lying motionless together. strength in this, but on the contrary it His physician happened to call at that instant
. shows great weakness, an absence of power Every art was tried to recover them. With Miss and imagination. It is like stage thunder Walton they succeeded; but Harley was gone for
He was buried in the place he and lightning compared with “ Heaven's arhad desired. It was shaded by an old tree, the tillery” when it “comes rattling on over the only one in the churchyard, in which was a cavity Caspian.” The one is genuine, the other a counted the tombs. The last time we passed there, sickly imitation. An author must attentive methought he looked wistfully on the tree: there ly peruse the red-leaved tablets of the heart, was a branch of it that bent toward us, waving in must wisely attend to the throbbings of his
own bosom ; then with a learned spirit, he absent, and feel his cheeks glow at ber approach; will appeal with a lasting effect to the hu- 1 he wondered what it was, that made him sigh and
blush. He would sometimes take solitary walks, man mind and its eternal sympathies. We
we without knowing why he wandered out alone: be need the harmonious and true, not the coarse found something that pleased him in the melan. and unreal; by the former the intellect is choly of lonely recesses and half-worn paths; and enlarged, the heart softened; the latter dis- his day-dreams commonly ended in some idea of
Miss Sindall, though he mcant nothing less than to play the foul depths of leprous sin, gloat on
think of such an object. He had strayed in one deformity, degrade the intellect, harden the of these excursions about half a mile from the heart, and encompass us in a miasma which house, through a copse at the corner of the park, poisons the springs of life. Many parents which opened into a little green amphitheatre; are fearful that by reading novels their chil- in the middle of which was a pool of water,
formed by a rivulet that crept through the matted dren will become sentimental and romantic.
grass, till it fell into this basin by a gentle cascade. There is no danger of that. Mammon is 'l'he sun was gleaming through the trees, which the only god worshipped in America with a were pictured on the surface of the pool beneath; burning zeal.
and the silence of the scene was only interrupted
by the murmurs of the water-fall, sometimes acu Mammon led them on;
companied by the querulous note of the woodMammon, the least erected spirit that feli
pigeons who inhabited the neighboriug copse. From heaven; for ev'n in heaven his looks and Bolton seated himself on the bank, and listened to thoughts
their dirge. It ceased; for he had disturbed the Were always downward bent; admiring more sacred, solitary haunt. I will give you some The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold, music in return,' said he and drew from his pocket Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd
a small piped flute, which he frequently carried In vision beatific; by him first
with him in his evening walks, and serenaded the Men also, and by his suggestion taught,
lonely shepherd returning from his field. He Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands played a little pensive air, which himself bad comRifled the bowels of their mother earth
posed. He thought he had played it by chance, For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew but Miss Sindall had commended it the day beOpen'd into the hill a spacious wound,
fore; the recollection of Miss Sindall'accompanied And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire the sound, and he had drawn her portrait listening That riches grow in hell; that soil may best to its close. She was, indeed, listening to its close, Deserve the precious bane."
for accident had pointed her walk in the very same
direction with Bolton's. She was just coming out The “ Man of the World" appears to
of the wood, when she heard the soft notes of his
flute. They had something of fairy music in me to be greatly inferior to the Man of them, that suited the scene; and she was irresist. Feeling. Sir Thomas Sindall is a vulgar ibly drawn nearer the place where he sat; Lorelace, possessing neither the gayety nor though some wayward feeling arose, and whisspirit of his famous prototype, and using the pered
were approaching it, whether she would or no; same means to accomplish his purposes of
and she stood close by his side, wbile the last caseduction as Lovelace used to accomplish dence was melting from his pipe. She repeated the ruin of Clarissa. And his attempt upon it after him with her voice. “Miss Sindall!” Lucy Annesly, after a lapse of some twenty
cried he, starting up with some emotion. 'I years, is revolting and unnatural. The story
know,' said she, you will be surprised to find me
here; but I was enchanted bither by the sound of of the fall of young Annesly is affecting, your' flute. Pray, touch that little melancholy and described in a masterly manner. Rich- tune again. He began, but he played very ill. ard Annesly, the parson, gains our entire • You blow it,' said she, 'not so sweetly as before ; esteem, by his simplicity and kind nature. let me try what tone I can give it.' She put it to
her mouth; but she wanted the skill to give it It is a portrait equal to Goldsmith's village
a s. lage voice. There cannot be much art in it;-she minister, or the one drawn by Chaucer. tried it again—'and yet it will not speak at my Rawlinson is likewise a beautiful character, bidding! She looked steadfastly on the flute, one of God Almighty's gentlemen. The holding her fingers on the stops; her lips were growth of Lucy and Bolton's mutual flame
red from the pressure, and her figure altogether 80
pastoral and innocent, that I do not believe the is truly and gracefully written :
kisses, with which the poets make Diana greet her
sister-huntresses, were ever more chaste than that * The state of the mind may be often disguised which Bolton now stole from her by surprise. even from the owner, when he means to inquire Her cheeks were crimson at this little violence of into it; but a very trifle will throw it from its Harry's. •What do you mean, Mr. Bolton ?' said guard, and betray its situation, when a formal exam- she, dropping the flute to the ground. "'Twas a ination has failed to discover it. Bolton would forfeiture, he replied, stammering and blushing often catch himself sighing when Miss Sindall was excessively, 'for attempting to blow my flute.