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• Einst trat der liebende Genius der gefühlreichern
Once the bright Angel whose duty it is to watch over the happiness of man, even the Guardian Angel of the World, drew near the throne of the Heavenly Father, and prayed: Give me, oh Father! a way by which I may teach man how to avoid a part at least of the many sins and temptations which the Fall hath entailed upon him! For man is not always bad ; at times he feels my better influence; at times his heart is ready to receive the good which a light external aid might fix upon him!
Then the Father spoke to the Angel and said, 'Give him the Dream.'
The sweet Guardian flew over the world with his sister the Dream. Far and wide they spread the gentle influence, and the hearts of life. weary morials were rejoiced. But the soft breathings of the Dream Angel fell not alike on all. To the good and gentle who had sunk to rest amid the blessings of their loved ones, and whose slumber was deepened by the toil of the good deeds which they had done, there came soft and silent glimpses of the far land of light. Forgetting the narrow prison of the world, their souls rose up and spread broad and wide over the land of vision, and gazed with eagle eyes upon its golden glories. But as the night waned, their dream grew dim, and the outer influences of the soul gently closed about them and drew them back to the world and the body, even as the corolla of the night-flower closes about it, and shuts from its gaze its best-loved starry heaven.
To the toil-worn, sun-burnt husbandman, who had fallen asleep in despair, and who ever feared lest some grim accident might destroy the fruit of his labor, the sweet Dream came like a soft summer shower upon the parched and dusty fields; and as he dreamed, he saw the green corn rising in goodly ranks, and gazed with joy upon the soft small ears, which at first no larger than flower-buds, seemed as he beheld them to expand to ripe maturity.
There are certain dream-fantasies and strange sleep-changes, that are to be found only in the deep unbroken slumber which results from extreme bodily fatigue, or in the light irregular rest of the fever; even as the grotesque blue dragon fly, and the strange water-flitter are found only on the surface of the deep silent pool, or the shallow brook; and as the husbandman slept on, the fantastic sprites who attend the Dream, flitted about him, and spread a gay confusion over the happy vision. For as he gazed upon the golden ears, a purple and scarlet cloud seemed to overshadow him, while round about he heard the pealing of bells, the merry ringing of familiar voices, and the lowing of cattle; and in the intervals there came shouts as of glad friends at the harvest home. Then the purple cloud gathered again about him, but the dream-spirits
with their long shadowy arms drew him through it, and he now stood before a well-filled granary; and as the tears of joy ran down his cheeks, his wife and loved ones gathered about him, and their blessings and praises sunk into his heart, and mingled with the hymn which rose like a golden cloud from the ocean of his soul. And he awoke from the sweet dream, and blessed it for the hope with which it had inspired him.
But the Dream flew on, and it came to a guilty prisoner who had fallen asleep cursing his judges, his doom, and the damp black fetters which clung like cold adders to his limbs. And as he dreamed, the prison was opened, the cold chains fell away, and remorse and rage no longer fixed their poison-fangs upon his heart. A bright light shone upon him, and blessed thoughts of mercy, repentance and reconciliation flitted through his mind like golden-winged butterflies through a summer garden ; and he awoke, trusting in release, and with his heart filled with love and kindness. Did the cold damp fetters fall from his limbs ? Were the prison-doors opened? The fetters fell not away; the prison. doors remained fast; and worn down by famine and sickness, he perished alone in the narrow dungeon. But the blessed hope which the gentle Dream had left in his heart, gladdened his last hour, and as he died, exclaiming Not my will, but thine, oh FATHER ! behold there was joy in Heaven.
It hath been said, that Hope alone is left with mortals; but with her abideth her sister, the Dream, who maketh her known to us. the Dream, men are led to Hope. Princeton, New-Jersey.
Our readers will no doubt remember the account given by us some two years since of a mysterious correspondent, whom we saw but for a moment, yet whose presence produced upon us a remarkable effect. After publishing a succession of numbers of the 'REUINISCENCES OF AN OLD Max,' our strange visitor discontinued his favors We waited with much anxiety ior a whole year, and were often on the point of venturing upon a visit to him, Still, we were unwilling to intrude upon the pri. vacy of one who evidently desired to remain in undisturbed retirement; and just as our desire to hear from the Reminiscent was getting the better of this delicacy, we received the subjoined communica. tion, accompanying a large package.
TO THE EDITOR OF TEE KNICKERBOCKER.
It is more than a year since I have communicated to you my sombre reminiscences. you had a right to expect a continuation of them, you shall know why they have not been furnished. Events beyond my control, and entirely unexpected, sent me once more where I had de. clared my feet should never wander. Again I have beheld the old world. Again I have seen the foot of the tyrant upon the neck of his victim; have beheld the oppression of a whole race, and heard their cries go up to the Mighty God of Sabaotu!
· But the time is not yet fully come.
* Once more I have returned to the peaceful retirement of my quiet chamber. When resting in it before, I thought my lot was cast there for the remainder of my pilgrimage. But Providence willed otherwise. Now, I trust, I shall be permitted to spend the remainder of my days in solitary quiet. But God's will be done! And if in the fulfilment of His will I must again be disturbed, must again become a wanderer, so mote it be! And believe me, though the saddened heart may suffer in the lonely retreat, yet it is among the throng, in the midst of the busy multitude, that its sufferings press heaviest, because there it recognizes humanity, but finds, alas ! no sympathy from his kind. Yet again I say, God's will be done!
• The experience of my whole life, my sojournings, my wanderings, the tumult and the calm, peace and war; all impress me with the solemn conclusion, that · The thing that hath been is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be done.'
· Who dare add more to the record of man's experience ?' [The package accompanying this remarkable communication was marked. The St. Leger Papers.' Upon the outside of it was written the following:)
"At the age of twenty-three years I find myself upon the threshold of two worlds. The Past summons the thousand incidents which have operated to determine me as a responsible being, and presents them with fearful vividness in array before me. The PRESENT seems like nothing beneath my feet. And the FUTURE, no longer a shadowy dream, throws open its endless vista, and whispers that I must soon enter upon all its untried, unknown realities. Here I am permitted to pause a moment, ere I commence upon that new existence which ends only with the INFINITE !
• I have finished my life upon earth. The ties which connect me with the world have parted. I have to do now only with eternity. Yet something which I may not resist, impels me to retrospection. I look back over my short pilgrimage, and feel a yearning which I cannot restrain, to put down a narrative of my brief existence, and to mark the several changes which have come over my spirit, in the hope that the young, with whom I chiefly sympathize, may profit by the recital.
• But of what use will the record of my experience prove to youthful spirits, flushed with the glow of health, secure in their fancied strength, and determined on enjoyment ? To them the world is every thing. Alas! they know not that the world will reward them with infamy, if they trust alone to it. Yet it is to such I would make my appeal. I would fain arrest them, before they shall cease to have sympathy with every saving influence, because of their habitual opposition to it.
But I will not anticipate the moral of my life. Let this be gathered from the record of it.'
THE ST. LEGER PAPERS.
"QUIDQUID agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
The St. Leger family have resided in Warwickshire for a very long period. My father, who was fond of tracing genealogies, affirmed that the estate upon which we lived was bestowed upon Bertold St. Leger by Richard the Lion-hearted, on his return from the Crusade, for the conspicuous services which he had rendered that monarch in his war with the Saracen. How such an uninterrupted possession had been maintained, for so long a time, and through every successive revolution, my father did not explain. The task might have proved difficult. At any rate, it was very well to rest satisfied with an account which appeared every way authentic. Be this as it may, our family was certainly an ancient one.
My grand-father, Hugh St. Leger, by his marriage with a lady of large fortune, became possessed of the valuable estate which joined Bertold-Castle, and was considered one of the wealthiest gentlemen in Warwickshire. This large patrimony fell to my father, who was an only child.
Bertold Castle, was a singular, grotesque-looking pile, half ancient, half modern in its appearance. Up to the time of my father's marriage, it remained as it had stood for generations. The castle was built upon the very brink of the Avon, and its foundations were deeper, it was said, than the bed of the river. The old moss, which covered its walls, extended down into the stream, so that the castle seemed to rise directly from the water. Many were the dismal stories which were told of the dungeons far under ground ; secret passages, beneath the bed of the river, communicating with the other side, and of the cruelties practised upon the unhappy prisoners confined in them in days of yore, and espe