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B For Richard s’ Weekly Oazeite.
I THE SELF-TAUGHT.
■ BY WM GILMORE SIMMS.
HnuMucn are Nature's favorites: they wore born
Hieath the canopy of trees in May,
HhcD Beauty tills the sky, and from the bud
Himthes the fresh odor ; when the merry birds
H. singing, through the air, and whirls aloft
■maddest paroxysms of delight,
H wanton mimic of a thousand tongues,
Hiring a torrent of impetuous song,
Hit stuns the grove to silence. She has been
Tli gentle mother, leading them away
Ffjmi the immure of the unnatural town,
Tel the free homestt ad of the ancient trees;
Belt owing them4he life that there alone
\f ihes life a dear romance. They have gone forth
A*|d brought her flowers, and fill’d her lap with
them;
And she has told them, of the life of each,
M t ravishing stories. Oh ! how very sweet,
Bus to be taught! No musty books—no rules,
■ dull, damp dungeons, shutting out the sky,
Bd drudging the free fancy with a weight
But leaves it wingless after.—’Tis my joy
■at I have thus been tutor'd! Nature came,
■ 1 took me for her charge when 1 was young,
II brought me up herself. I was not taught
listories of school men—men of cloud
■ i vapor, with philosophies of straw,
■.ii strive in bubble-hunting. Ancient tongues,
Hut. having answer’d for their day, had gone,
Ihloforgetfulness, ne’er tortured mine!
for life—the present and the real —
lcmnM to its necessity s, and full
lolall its glorious conquests —its new truths,
Hu coming victories—l was not vex'd
I with frigid phantoms of philosophy,
IA ddnight in my chamber—ghosts of doubt,
Hi speculation, that in all their eyes
[ $ peculation wore *, when the broad heavens
Here hung with forms of rare intelligence —
Buchers of heart and fancy—twining forms,
He herds of eyes, the numerous flocking stars,
H/.uig down on me, and imploring mine !
H present was my own ! I made it mine,—
®(joying it; the past was mine as well; —
1 ivedthe life of the world, as still the world
JJUa render’d life to the living ; yielding man
I fperier.ee of his father in bis own ;
I tod the same ground that they had travel’do’er,
The .'age and soldier of dim ages gone,
lift lie same company.—What did I need,
I fitli the same feelings and affections fill’d—
F<r I drew milk from hearts which they had drawn,
To toil through their adventures 1 They were
I mine,
Ire ady in my progress. I was taught
■ \ the same tutor—happy that 1 was!
luSMIjMj'J-fiiJi.
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
OMAN & WOMAN'S LORI).
BY A L.\l)V OF GEORGIA.
CHAPTER I.
I The village of Clarksville, in the upper
ntry of Georgia, possesses considerable
M I action in the summer season. Some of
He choice spirits of the State have resorted
9 ‘ re regularly for several years with their
I Indies, and have their mansions scattered
■ pund in the immediate vicinity, at plcas
visiting distances. They moreover
B 1 >n a delightful and attractive circle, to
tlose who enjoy with zest “the feast of
Ha*on anj the flow of soul,” together with
Be more substantial enjoyment which the
Bud cheer of hospitable boards offer.—
Bgcd veterans in politics and war —young
Bn in the prime and vigor of manhood —
Batrons, whose eyes have sparkled in the
B bite House levees—maidens, who have
■“'•'ks ruddy with the glow of health, and
B 1 nh, and happy thought—mingle often
Oh delightful harmony, in social and in-
I dlectual enjoyment.
I besides this, the salubrious climate, with
to the Mountains and Falls.
1 - ure to it shifting crowds of visitors, more
<r less agreeable. The remembrance of
I L'tn is like viewing a piece of patch-
I'oik. Here we see one more beautiful
I J an its neighbor; there, one deformed,
Bib in texture and stamp ; another we
I M >inl was good for use, and not for beau-
I another purely and innocently white.
B ihc first evening of Autumn, 18 —,
■wksville presented more than its usual
cheerful ami varied appearance. The Ho
tels were lighted up, each in tlieir own way,
and the appearance of the company at each
indicated their grade in life. There were
accommodations for all, from the travelled
leader of fashion, who imported caps, bon
nets and dresses from Paris, to the verdant
waggoner, fresh from over the mountains,
but whose jolly good-nature and robust
I frame promised him, when many, many
years rolled by, the enjoyment of a green
old age.
The stores were also well lighted, and
they looked more brilliant from the fact
that the young moon had set in the twi
light of the evening. There had been a
barbecue towards the mountains, where
i the veterans had talked politics, and a
party in town, where the young folks were
talking love and sentiment. Some of the
votaries of politics had halted in town, to
have a parting talk, to place an entering
wedge with precision, or to tighten one
that had already entered, to instil, to in
struct—in other words, to lead the blind!
But where are the gay votaries of plea
‘ sure 1 They are collected at a ball, given
at tlie most fashionable Hotel, to some
| young visitors. The merry laugh, the
| joyous music of happiness, is heard across
the street, and falls pleasantly on the
j heart and the ear of a traveller. He had
entered one of the principal streets of the
village, walking and leading a fine-looking
horse, rather lame from having been shod
carelessly. He stopped before the corner
store of the square, and asked of a gentle
man who was just about leaving in the di
rection in which he had come, if “ Mr.
Edward Oliver lived near there. - ’
“Yes, sir,” said the gentleman, “he
’ lives only a short mile from here, and has
| not been gone from this place fifteen min
utes.”
“That is really unfortunate for me,”
; said the stranger, “for 1 had promised my
| self the pleasure of seeing him to-day.”
“ There is a man in that store,” replied
| the gentleman, “ who lives on Mr. Oliver’s
| place; and if you can induce him to go
now, you will save him some money, and
! leave a few drams for the next drunkard
! that comes in.”
A bright smile lit up the face of the stran
ger, as he replied—
“ Well, as I am enlisted myself in the
cause of temperance, 1 will try and reclaim
him from his cups—at any rate, for to
night.”
As he said this, he hitched his horse and
entered the store ; and as the light fell full
upon his manly form, I will describe him
to you. The first glance would fix him in
your mind as a mechanic of the higher or
der; and the cause of this conclusion was
found in the practical, matter-of-fact ex
pression of the eye. It seemed to say—
Philosophy and Mathematics are my sub
servients: their rules I understand, har
monize and apply. Indeed, truth and util
ity was the expressed language of his coun
tenance. He had a form moulded in the
finest model for strength and activity. His
height was above six feet. If there was
anything sensual in the expression of his
countenance, it lingered about the mouth
in playful smiles, and looked as if he might
indulge, if there was not a divine principle
ever watchful over the human propensities.
That displayed itself in the nobly towering
brow, which was as calm, placid and fair,
as the moon glittering on the brow of night.
His eye beamed with benevolence, but there
was a degree of stoicism and stern dignity
also expressed there, which forbade the too
familiar approach of strangers.
He succeeded in h.s attempt, for the trio,
viz. Charles Elliston, his horse, and Jimmy-
Day, the drunkard, soon left the village.—
Sleeping, as many of its inhabitants were
by that time, it seemed itself to be sleeping
in the midst of darkness and silence. At
tire termination of the Ridge road, through
which he had been travelling, and on the
verge of anew and striking prospect,
Charles Elliston looked around him, and
peered with his searching glance into the
dark obscure. He thought he saw on the
distant horizon dark summits, mountain
shaped, and imagined he felt the pure
mountain air upon his cheek. The road
was just perceptible enough for him not to
miss it. On the right, the woods were uni
form and thick ; on the left, he felt certain
there must be a magnificent view, lie
thought how much pleasure he would
have in contemplating it to-morrow, in
company with his old friend Ned, and his
mind rested with delight upon the recipro
cations of affection he thought would pass
between them. He would now witness
the married happiness of Ned, which he
had refused to do before, and would ex
plain, in his turn, all the mysteries con
nected with his own past conduct. His
tall, athletic form, as he strode along by
the side of his horse, presented a striking
! contrast to the meagre figure half running
by his side, and muttering as lie went—
“ Jimmy Day is the man, sir; he’ll show
you tlie way, sir; he’s been to a barbecue,
sir.”
“And what have you been doing at a
barbecue, Mr. Day 1” said Charles Elliston.
“Been humbugging, sir, for grog. No
body shall humbug me, sir. The biter
must be bitten sometimes, sir. Ha, ha, ha.
Jimmy Day ‘s a smart man when lie’s
| drunk, sir.”
“Is it possible you are not ashamed of
being drunk ?” said Charles Elliston.
“No, sir. Jimmy Day is a man when
, he’s drunk, sir. Yes, sir—it’s the only
time when he is a man, sir.”
“Can you work better when you are
drunk, Mr. Day?” said Elliston.
“Oh! no, sir; but he’s a man of his
| own will then, sir. Peggy works for me,
sir; and when Jimmy Day is drunk, is the
time to get the wages. Ha, ha, ha !”
And delighted with the thought of his
drunken power, he went along in a pacing
gait, throwing himself from side to side, as
if intentionally, to maintain his equilibrium,
and muttering as he went, “Dimes, Peggy,
i dimes; I’ll choke you if you don’t.” And
thus he uttered his diabolical imaginings,
i until they turned tnto a road winding down
what seemed to be an extensive hill-side.
They went on through groves of oak,
which seemed to be of small growth, for
ever and anon, as they would come to
rather a rough projection, or a turn down
ward. it would seem as if there was a con
tinuous and wide prospect in front of them.
They came at last to a clearing, through
which the road seemed to wind semi-circu
larly in front of a mansion, whose hospi
table light was still burning brightly. A
foot-path wound down to the left into a
ravine, where stood a little windowless
cottage—a fire-light visible under the door.
Charles Elliston turned to inquire if this
was the mansion of Mr. Oliver, when he
saw, to his surprise, that Jimmy Day-, (as
he called himself.) was half-way down the
foot-path that led to his miserable home.
The truth was. that he had not received
his usual quantity- of stimulus before he
was taken off, and the cool air and con
stant exercise had sobered him rather too
much. Be felt, indeed, by- the time he ar
rived at home, that he was not the man he
thought he was. His step was hesitating,
and his eyes were cast down, for, unless
lie was drunk, he never either walked firm
ly or looked at any one.
“ Now Jimmy, honey, is that you?” said
P<W
“ Ye-e-es,” said Jimmy.
“Why. Jimmy, what is the matter with
y-ou ? been at the barbecue, and not drunk ?”
“Ye-e-s,” said Jimmy.
“Oh, Jimmy, you are so good not to get
drank. Just look here, Jimmy, at little
Olli; don't he grow fast?”
“ Ye-e-s ; ” said Jimmy-.
“ Bless the Lord! what is the matter
with the man ? Can't y-ou give one kind
look to your boy, Jimmy- 1 Thank God,
he looks like you did in your best days.
Do you remember them, Jimmy- ?”
“Ye-e-es,” said Jimmy. Grog and stu
pidity had blunted all his feelings. His
mind had but two ideas—money—rum.
In the meantime, Charles Elliston had
received the embraces of his friend, for
they had loved with no ordinary degree of
affection. In the first place, they had been
friends and room-mates in Franklin Col
lege; and in the second place, Ned had
married a first cousin of Charles; so that
there was every reason for their greetings
to be affectionate and kind. A hospitable
supper was soon served, around which the
happy trio gathered in social mirth—a dif
ferent trio from the last, in which Charles
was the only intelligence. Even in Col
lege, Ned and Charles were considered
stars of the same magnitude, yet shining
with different lustre. The latter, calm and
steady, seeming to be set firmly in the deep
blue heaven. The fo/mer, more wayward,
seemed as if he almost dared to take the
eccentric flight of the comet, and penetrate
into unknown and far-off systems. They
were friends from contrast, not from con
geniality, excepting in the fundamental
principles of mind.
Ellen Constance Oliver, or, as Ned used
often to call her, his constant Ellen, was
the undefined, inexplicable charm of home,
the presiding spirit of purity and benevo
lence to all within her circle.
“It gives me great pleasure, Elliston,”
said Ned, “to see you again, with your
own self-possessed countenance. It was
the first charm that drew me to you, and
induced me to seek your acquaintance.”
“ And l hope you will tell us now, Cou
sin Charles,” said Ellen, “ why you were
so depressed and unhappy just before and
when we last parted.”
“Oh yes,” said Charles, “I intend doing
so, when we have leisure and tine to go
over a long story.”
“ You indeed surrounded yourself with
mysteries when you were in College,” said
Ned, “and I hope you have brought a ma
gician's wand to dissipate them all I half
suspected you were in love, which was
more than confirmed by those neatlv envel
oped epistles, inscribed with a fairy-like
hand.”
“That was because you were in love
yourself, mvdcarNed. Those letters were
from my sister, who sends one nowto cou
sin Ellen, and commissions me to induce
you all to visit her in Maryland, at the old
; family mansion.”
“ How is this, my dear Charles—after
the brothers have been so long separated,’
! are they are again to be united ?”
“Yes, there is a strange ending to all I
I our family separations—a consummation t
little expected, when I first saw con sin El
len at a Commencement in Athens.”
“Well do 1 remember that day Charles,
when you took me with you to see your
stranger relative. It seems Pke yesterday,
Ellen, when you burst upon mv sight, in
the low, long, crowded parlor, of that mis
erable hotel in Athens.”
“You seem to think. Edward, you can
say what you please about what lias ex
isted in Athens, since there have been such
great improvements there. I will make my
escape for the night, for fear you will say
something I would not like to hear, about
your first impressions of me ; so farewell.
To-ir.orrow, cousin Charles, I will shew
you my jewels.”
“1 will imprison this little hand, Ellen, j
until you give me a farewell Ms*. ‘ saui j
Ned, “the ‘family circular’ shall not be
dispensed with because Charles is here.”
Soon, sleep, with its soft influences, had
lulled them all to rest, and happy minister
ing spirits, the angels of the blessed de
parted, were hovering around, instilling
happy thoughts and pleasant dreams into
the sleep of peace, innocence and truth.—-
We also wish them “ pleasant dreams,”
and turn with pleasure to another chapter
of “Woman and Woman’s Lord.”
[To be continued.]
For Richards’ Weekly Gazelle.
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT.
Non lungi all’ aurce porte oniT esce i! sole,
E crEtallina porta in oriente,
Che per costume inuanzi aprir si suole
Che si dischiuda l'useio al di naseenle:
l>a ouesta cscono i sogni, * * *
1 Tasso.
lu the orient skies, not far from the
golden gate, whose portals unclose at the
approach of the sun's royal chariot, in a
gate of crystal. It opens before Aurora
ushers in the king of day, and here Dreams
find an entrance. Bright and glowing they
flit about the morning couch of the sleeper.
The wearied one, now refreshed by balmy
slumber, still rests in delicious repose, while
the invigorated spirit with rapture receives
tlie visitants whose aerial forms have pass
ed the crystal gate.
* * * ♦■u n
it was a mid-summer night. In a South
ern clime, how delicious is night! Beauti
ful it is in its mellow but brilliant moon
light, but more glorious when its starry
gems glow in skies of deepest azure.
“ On such a night,” Trof. A. and his fa
vorite pupil, Cora, from the balcony watch
ed the golden constellations which adorned
the sapphire arch. The evening was se
rence. Silence reigned. The woodland
song was hushed, for birds and bees rested
after the sultry summer day. The zephyrs
slept. The ambient air, laden with the per
fume of aromatic flowers, just touched the
strings of the zEolian harps which were
placed in the branches of the overshadow
ing trees. Soft, plaintive, almost silent,
were the re-echoing tones, like the etherial
music of an infant-spirit who had left Par
adise to watch over tile loved on earth.
“ Night wears her diamonds,” said Cora,
“ Lovely night! robed in azure, geinmed
with brilliants. See on herqueenly brow,
her sparkling coronal—see beautiful Co
rona.”
“Yes,” said the Prof., “ Ariadne's crown,
which Bacchus bid to take its place among
the stars—
“ The gotten circlet mounts, amt as it flies.
Its diaioonls twinkle iu the distunt .kies.”
And Lyra, how brightly it glows—how
pure its rays! No wonder that the eye of
Poesy appropriated to Orpheus, that unri
valled constellation—to Orpheus, whose
magic strains charmed the rocks and rivu
lets, ami the lords of the forests, and whose
lyric song won the heart of the lair Eury
dice.
“And see Aquila— Jupiter’s eagle—how
J high it builds its eyrie. Noble bird, borne
oil the standard, of the conquering Romans,
but more precious to tis as the emblem
which waves on our own flag, the ‘star
spangled banner’ of our beloved America.
A banner ever honored in the hands of our
countrymen—heroes, whose prowess and
valor are proved. And ever may our flag
wave in peace o’er our country.
“And in the Milky Way, floating on the
silver stream, is fair Cygnus; and see, not
far away, the Dolphin glitters in the blue
serene—tlie heavenly sea.
“In the west is the Diamond of Virgo—
and how varied are the stars which form
its outline. Cor Caroli gleams faintly, as
through a curtain of gauze; Denebola
glows more brilli uilly : A returns, with its
ruddy rays, resembles • war's wild planet;’
while lone Spica. in solitary splendor, spar
kles with purest light. And now tlie gold
en Scorpion, rival to Orion—to “the belted
giant of the skies”—is wreathing his cir
clct of utaro in ilu* sui'Dim huuvcno. It*
not most brilliant ?’’
‘•Truly it is,” said Cora; “ but my eye
now rests on a fairer constellation —one of
pearl-like beauty, replete with historic in
terest—on that nebulous light, which, the
legend tells us commemorates the devoted
love of the Egyptian Queen for her hero
lord. Her luxuriant tresses, a votive offer
ing for the safe return of Ptolemy, is an
honored constellation. That is not love
which is not capable of a sacrifice; but
when a woman relinquishes her chief or
nament, the object of her daily taste and
skill, then prove her truth and de
votion.”
“How strangely are truth and fiction
mingled,” replied the l’rof. “How many
a lesson of the human heart may \vc find
‘ill’.vl mlai j Mmij u-a lnolut'rv
event and classic story, and many an an
cient fable, is traced in starry light on that
azure scroll; but none more beautiful, more
true to nature, than that of tlie crystal
wave—of Coma Berenices.
“ And is it not a thought replete with in
terest, that in the elfin times, in the dark
ages, lovers read their fate in the same stars
which so serenely look down on us.—
Grateful are vve that no cloud of supersti
tion now obscures their beauty. Look on
that ruby star; perhaps ages ago, the gift
ed, beautiful, hut unhappy Cleopatra, fear
fully watched the fitful gleainings of that
star—the star of her destiny. On which
of these bright orbs, think you, were the
eyes of the devoted and wronged Josephine
fixed, when she said to her husband, ‘Bo
naparte, behold that bright star; it is mine:
and remember, to mine, hot to thine, has
sovereignty been promised. Separate then
our fates, and your star wanes.’ Prophet
ic words. 1 lei’s was a prophecy wrung
from a heart whose vividness had quicken
ed the judgment to intuitive perception.—
The star of Napoleon, then in the ascend
ant, went out, quenched in a dark and
crimson flood. I,ike the burning star of
Cassiopea, which so long filled the world
with awe, by its wild gleaming and its gor
geous brilliancy.
“ And Horner and Virgil, on the shores
of classic Greece, and ’mid Italian skies,
sung of Orion armed with gold—of the
weeping Ilyades, and of the twin Triones.”
“True,’ pursued Cora, “ astrologers and
poets, lovers and seers, have all contem
plated that starry dome with wonder and
admiration; but more than all, the inspired
prophets watched.the rising and setting of
the same constellations, which are so pre
cious in our eyes. They loved the ‘cham
bers of south,’ the golden mazes of ‘ the
crooked serpent,’ the ‘brilliant bands of
Orion,’ and on their holy heads descended
‘ the sweet influence of thePleiades.’ And
how the heart thrills at the idea—how Ihe
soul reaches forth to comprehend the won
drous thought, that those sparkling dots
are suns to whole systems of worlds, and
the countless habitations of gifted and im
mortal beings.
“There are times,” added Cora, “when
my spirit flutters wildly within its prison
house ; it vainly struggles to be free, and
to roam at will amid those distant orbs ;
but at last, like a weary, wounded bird, it
seems still and motionless, stunned by its
own powerless efforts. But again, recov
ering from its bewilderment, its aspirations
are heard in questions like these. Are not
those worlds replete with life, beauty and
intelligence ? And may we not yet visit
those distant orbs ! Are there more mag
nificent displays of the Creator’s power in
those vast worlds than on our earth ? And
are their inhabitants wiser and better ?
“Often,” said Prof. A., “have I asked
of ‘the burning stars of night’ these very
questions. Often, with an earnest spirit,
have I gazed on the firmament,
“ The breitst - ['hit o of the true High Priest,
Ard ont with gems oranUar ”
Sometimes 1 have thought that the loved
scenes of nature here—that our beautiful
earth, with its majestic mountains, its flow
ing rivers, its pearled and grottoed oceans,
its emerald isles, its peaceful vales, its hap
py homes, are but shadowy images of the
exhibitions of love and wisdom in those
vast and wondrous worlds. We may here
after be permitted, when free from the
■ mortal coils’ which bind us here, and
when our intellectual and spiritual facul
ties have gathered angelic power to com
prehend those glories in the Universe,
which imagination now so faintly pic
tures.”
As in words of beauty Prof. A. painted
the results of scientific navigation, Cora’s
spirit glowed with enthusiasm, and earnest
were her aspirations after knowledge and
wisdom. Hour after hour passed away.—
At last, said Cora—
“ It is well for us that in our skies there
is no tiine-kecper, and that we have no
.. i - -- T I
if so, long since we might have heard—
‘ll est tard; il est niiuuit. Le croix du
Sud est droit sur l’horizon,’ or rather, ‘ It is
past midnight; the Cross has waned.’ ”
“ But,” said the Prof., “ these winged
hours cast o’er the common walks of life a
halo of light and glory, and prepare us to
meet without complaint the real and rough
with which our pathway is beset. Thus
is the spirit haimonized and prepared for
its daily avocations and for life’s impera
tive duties. These winged hours tinge
many that follow, with a roseate hue.”
When Cora retired to rest, the whip-poor
will had awoke, and was pouring forth his
plaintive notes,, his nightly serenade; and
wearied by thought and lulled by the mo
notonous repose, she slumbered—
’ W tli ib pvu.ee
Floating a\>out her heart, which only comes
From high communion.”
Her sleep was dreamless, and with the first
blush of Morning she awoke. The birds
in sweet conceit were caroling tlieir morn
ing hymns, and the gentle breezes were
playing about the curtains. She arranged
her repeater, and while recalling recollec
tions of the lovely evening which had
passed ‘in converse high,’ again she slept.
Not yet had Aurora, in ‘orient purple
dressed,’ unbarred the golden portals of
the roseate east, but wide open were the
crystal gates, and the winged messengers
passed those beautiful barriers which shut
out Dream-land from mortal ken.
A radiant being, with a face of exqui
site beauty, touched tlie sleeper with a
magic wand.
“Conic, Cora, away with me,” he salt),
“even beyond the Land of Dreams. The
open gate invites you to the profoundest
depths of the universe.”
Not a moment did she hesitate, hut trust
ing herself, with the confidence of a true
and earnest nature, to Aerial, the stranger
guide, she ascended into the unique chariot.
They approached the “ cristallina porta,”
the gate of crystal, where the winged dreams
were passing. One group arrested the at
tention of Cora, for among them some were
bright and beautiful, others wild and fan
tastic—one wore the signet of truth on his
brow, while on another was the impress of
falsehood—some were trifling and frivolous,
and others were thoughtful and of noble
bearing. That group are all on their ucy
to one slee|iei, and each will whisper to
her, before returning.
“No wonder,” said Cora, who, like all
sleepers, supposed herself awake, “No
wonder that fancies so strange, so contra
dictory, so true, and so false, are blended
in our dreams.”
And now the aerial travellers espy Au
rora's chariot, a transparent ruby of rich
est hue, gracefully borne down the azure
way, by swans of resplendent whiteness.
Aurora reclined in the chariot, in a cloud
like robe of purple, over which a net-work
of golden gossamer, in rich folds, was
thrown. Her luxuriant curls floated in
the breeze, and a rich blush gave brilliancy
to her perfect features. With her own
beautiful hands she opened the gate, at the
approach of the Sun’s royal chariot, which
was borne on by steeds of majestic beauty,
who were richly caparisoned, and were
diamond-shod.
The car of Cora flew on rapid wings, and
soon rested on tho mountains of tljo wool l,
which rose from the “Sea of Showers.”
“Where,” said Cora, ‘is the jewel pal
ace, thirty miles in circumference, descri
by the Italian poet?”
“That was a fiction of Ariosto's,” said
Aerial; “but see that opal castle, spark
ling in rainbow hues.” This fabric was
by nature's architect spun from the volcan
ic crater, in wild but symmetrical proper
lions. Rainbows, passing from the earth,
mingled with the molten lava to form the
opal; crystalized fire, and consolidated
light, dancing in sparkles of gold, purple
and green, gave to this unique stone a
beauty surpassing that of the diamond.—
Cora’s winged chariot entered a dome of
the opal palace. It was an immense globe,
within which the car floated. The convex
surface was inlaid with Lapis Lazuli, of
the rich blue seen only in that rare stone
Golden stars gemmed the azure. The hea
vens, as they appear through the gigantic
eye of a powerful telescope, were exhibit
ed. Our solar system and stellar universe
were there. The Milky Way, a gorgeous
ring, a band of resplendent pearl, extended
round the vast concave. The brilliant
constellations so well known to Cora, as
well as those about the Southern pole,
were magnified into startling beauty. The
polar star, our cynosure, the Southern
Cross, Ursa Major, and the Centaur, Scor
pio and Orion—all were seen by Iter, glit
tering amid nebulte and magellanic clouds.
A vast number of the nebulae were resolv
...l rr*t IX • T* 1* ■ ,- , - f.ll il’-T.
—the ring-like Nebula in Lyre—the Com
et, like one in the girdle of Andromeda,
and the most glorious of the Nebul® —that
in the girdle of Orion, all claimed her ad
miration. Said Cora—
“ This View does not satisfy me, but in
creases my desire for further observation.
Let us go among those wondrous worlds.”
As she thus spake, the winged car left the
Opal Palace, and floated over the Moon's
volcanic mountains and ravines. It seem
ed that mountains torn from their bases
had left these huge excavations.
“I remember,” said Cora, “that Ariosto
relates a story of the Paladin Astolfo, who
found at the Moon all lost things—love's
sighs and tears, ladies’ charms, lost senses,
and wasted hours. Before we leave this
lunai legion, let me search for some of my
lost time.”
“ Mourn not,” replied Aerial, “ for the
departed day, or for the dying hour, but let
its knell remind you of the future.”
The Sun had vanished, and the Earth,
like a giant moon, met the gaze of Cora.
“ Sec,” she exultinglv exclaimed, “ see
our magnificent Earth--like a silver-robed
sea. It is larger than half a score of
moons.”
“This is the only point in the Universe
from which the earth appears magnificent,”
replied Aerial. The chariot pursued its
winged course, and soon hovered over Ve
nus. The aerial car floated above magnifi
cent lunar scenery. The lofty mountains
of Venus, towering twenty miles above its
surface, were ricli in gems of beauty.—
The travellers rested in a grotto, formed of
pterions stones, ami of sea-sholls, where
the air was redolent with the perfume of
lunar flowers, where winged creatures, of
exquisite plumage, sported amid the foliage,
while limpid streams flowed down golden
sands, and fountains danced, as if to hid
den music.
“And” said Cora, “is this beautiful
Venus, on whose silvery orb 1 have so of
ten gazed, and while f watched it, follow
ing the sun like a page, how have I long
ed to know its history ! Ah !it is indeed
as lovely as I had imagined it—but tell me
arc its inhabitants of correspondent beau
ty ? Do they love, and hope, and fear ?
Is there here cherub infancy, and blooming
youth, and wise maturity, and venerable
age ? Do the inhabitants of this fair plan
et, fade and die? Is sorrow here, and
does the heart well nigh hreak with grief,
and is the blight of sin cast over all this
lovely region? And Mercury so near the
sun—are not all these consumed by its op
pressive rays, and do not the inhabitants
of Hcrschel shiver with cold ?” Be assured
answered Aerial that the same great de
signer, who created your earth has fitted
all beings for their own planet.
“But” continued the excited Cora, “ I
have heard that in Sirius, and in othei
vast worlds, the inhabitants are endowed
with many more senses, than those of ours
1 and their mental gifts are superior! Why
may I not visit a planet inhabited by be
-1 ings so highly gifted ?” “Because” said
Aerial, “you, with your capacities limited,
as ihe\ now are, could have no intercourse
with th m. The inhabitants of earth are
a very low or,lei of intelligences, but are
susceptable of high improvement. I can
not now tiring you to the companionship of
the Doings on other globes. I have the
power only, to give you a glimpse of the
Universe, hut that will convince you of
the impossibility of a finite being compre
hending the works of creation.
Leaving Venus, the ring-shaped moun
tains, stationed like watch-towers about
the ruddy planet of Mars, soon became
visible. The polar snows consolidated
into glaciers of fantastic form, glit
tered with ice-castles, crowned with turrets
and minarets. Now the cat hovered over
one of Jupiter's sattelites, from which Ju-