the honeysuckle arranges itself in the most beautiful festoons, and the flowers of spring unclose their silken bells beneath its ringlets. Cowslips conceal their bosoms beside the sky-like clusters of the bluebell; violets bestow their fragrance over every inch of ground; and primroses, as countless as the stars of a moonlight night, twinkle through the foliage of the hedge as though they were' gems strewn there.' When the eye has sufficiently feasted on these delicious luxuries of Nature, the dimples and the tints of a joyous streamlet dazzle it so completely, that it becomes almost incapable of withdrawing its gaze. Nor is the streamlet's appearance less bewitching than its melody! A succession of festal tones issue forth in the laughter of its ripples, and after disturbing the repose of an old alder thicket, they pause round a cluster of shells, and finally bequeath their cadence to six or seven water lilies. Sam Sandysky, the village naturalist, has become so deeply enamoured of these water lilies, that he almost swears when the slightest animadversion is passed on their delicacy. But I must conclude my description of the little streamlet. It derives its source from a pure silvery spring, which rises in the interior of the hedge, and scatters its chrystal sprinkles over the tufts of primroses that bloom beside it. From thence it wanders through a small furrow, fringed with a most delicious variety of violets, and finally terminates in the blue unclouded space of water which I have already noticed. Oh! methinks I now see the rosy blossoms of the eglantine imaged in its sunlight depths, and the wild birds of autumn sporting on its fragrant brink. At the distance of about thirty yards from the streamlet, the path gradually descends; and after winding along the extremity of the hedge, thinks it shall be exposed to a good quantity of sunshine, if it continue its course through the Squire's Park. Into the Squire's Park, therefore, it turns, and is alternately seen and lost in the numerous mazes that conduct it to the fishpond. When any one arrives at this romantic portion of the Squire's pro perty, he generally acknowledges the beauty of the path through Glendarnlie; and well may he do so, for the wild gush of the current, the proud voices of a dozen tall branching beech trees, the rith melody of about sixty singing-birds, and the calm pastoral tinkling of the scattered sheep-bells, produce a delicious effect on the imagination! And here, too, is the path hallowed with a thousand recollections, recollections that awake the buoyancy of every sorrowed spirit! Yes, methinks I now see the wild water-fowl quit their chrystal habitations, and soar into the boundless atmosphere like a multitude of flowers, flying and basking in the blue light of heaven.' Methinks, around me, I hear the joyous melody of my once-glad schoolfellows, warbled From Purity's own cherub lips,' in an unsubdued harmony; and, as the white walls of Giles Gimber's manor-house meet my eye from the distant meadows, the warm tide of memory renews itself in my soul. From this portion of the Squire's domains the path forms two or three grassy circles (not much unlike fairy rings), and then continues its course between two rows of sunless witch-elms, that seem as old as Herne's oak. In these trees, the Squire has permitted a company of vagabond crows to take up their abode, and from morning till night they disturb the silence of the scene with their loud and monotonous cawing. The Rector is so deeply incensed with the Squire for this specimen of his taste, that he has endeavoured to augment the quantity of his annual tithes. After the noise of these hated crows has become somewhat mellowed by distance, and after the loiterer has passed from under the spectral shades of the witchelms, the ear is charmed with a wild but melodious gush of waters; and, at the same time, the eye beholds the fishpond divide itself into a thousand feathery rills, and form one of the most attractive waterfalls that ever embraced a cluster of fresh young field flowers. As the fishpond approaches the steep from whence it precipitates itself, a variety of wrinkles unite and separate on its sunbright curve. An interesting old tree, that extends its green and yellow branches over this part of the fishpond, considerably improves its exquisite appearance. It was here that Black Guy, the parish-clerk, attempted to execute the mandate of the Rector, but unluckily failed in his undertaking; and it is here that the reaper, the woodman, and even the romping, fresh-coloured and sandy-haired water-cress girl, forget their laborious occupations, while they select a nosegay from the sweet-scented flowers that fringe, in groupes of twos and threes, the silver foam of the fishpond. From this place the path through Glendarnlie assumes a wild and irregular aspect; nevertheless, it is not destitute of the innumerable graces that enriched its commencement. A long range of barren declivities, that frequently terminate in an airy extent of meadows; a collection of streamlets, that are of more beauty than consequence; and a considerable quantity of marsh land, that is more famed for its cattle than its fertility,-delight as they perplex the wandering eye. Added to these attractive varieties of nature, the herdsman's lodge, the Rector's hop-grounds, and the miller's corn-fields, complete the picture. R. A. EPIGRAM ON A DEAD DEBTOR. He has paid Nature's debt; and, I'm afraid, HE's dead! ON THE SAME. His debt to Nature is no more; I wish, however, he'd paid mine before. J. D. NEWMAN. EXTRACTS FROM THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK OF A LITERARY LOUNGER. RAMEAU. THIS great musician possessed that enthusiasm without which nothing can be effected. He had one day some men of letters at his house, who laughed at him very much for making an anachronism. Rameau flew with great emotion to his harpsichord, and, running rapidly over the keys of it, played a most exquisite piece of harmony. Now,' said he, gentlemen, it surely shows more talent to be able to compose such a piece of music as that you have just heard, than to be able to tell in what year Charlemagne or Clovis died. You only remember, I invent; and pray which is most admirable, genius or erudition?' DU CERCEAU. In his life of the modern Roman demagogue, Rienzi, observes, that 'popular talents, in general, are combined with a certain degree of insanity.' The mass of mankind appear rather to be pleased with what dazzles than with that which convinces them; and are more impressed by the ardour of enterprise than by the sobriety of practicability. It is the exercised eye alone which prefers the impasto of Titian to the glaze of Barocci-solid and substantial colour to airy and diaphonous tints. CARDINAL FLEURY. When the Abbé de St. Pierre presented his project of a perpetual peace to this wily and experienced minister, the Cardinal said, Sir, I am much afraid that you have forgotten the preliminary article. You have forgotten to send a troop of missionaries, to dispose the hearts and the minds of the different sovereigns towards your excellent project.' Fleury being told one day that he was responsible to his sovereign for his conduct, replied, Say, rather, to God and my conscience.' INDEX. Ad Lyram, 268. Alchymist, The, 38. Anecdotes and Recollections, 236. Antonio Vanucci, a Florentine Story, 16. Appropriate Present, 239. Athenian Battle Song, 46. Bacchanalian Air, 82. Ballad, by Hubert, 259. Beauty, Love, and Glory, 89. Character, A, 119. Coffin-makers of Eisonach, The, 96. Coningsmark, Charles John, 153. Conscience, On, 235. Court at Tunbridge in 1664, The, 21. Cowell, W. M. Death Song of the Last Delaware Indian, by, 200. Crowquill, A. The Sea Sprite, by, 105. The Jew's Revenge, by, Cupid's Song, 75. Curate of Suverdsin, The, 269. David Hume and Lady W---e, 104. Death Song of the Last Delaware Indian, by W. M. Cowell, 200. Du Cerceau, 309. Enchanted Lake, The, 137. Epicurean, The, 15, 90, 146, 248, 302. Epigram on a Dead Debtor, by J. D. Newman, 308. On the Evening Hour, The, 144. Evening Star, 62. Extracts from the Common-Place Book of a Literary Lounger, 104, 153, 309. Fairy's Song, by Sarah Hoding, 188. Feist, Charles, The Vision, by, 95. First Love, 229. Fleury, Cardinal, 309. Foray, The, 125.- Fountain in the Meadows, The, a Country Sketch, 150. Fragmenta, No. I. 112, No. II. ib. No. III. 113, No. IV. ib. No. V. 234, No. VI. 235, No. VII. ib. Fratricide, The, 131. |