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THE FRIEND OF TIIF FAMILY.
VOLUME 11.
€l)t jFricttii nf f'jic jhituilt},
A Weekly Southern Newspaper,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, BY
EDWARD .T. PURSE.
iER M S :
Two Dollars a year, in advance, or Two
Fifty if not paid within three months.
SUBSCRIPTIONS RECEIVED FOR SIX MONTHS,
AT ONE DOLLAR, IN ADVANCE.
Three copies for one year, or one copy
three years, - - - - - - -$5 00
Seven Copies, - -- -- -- 10 00
Twelve copies, - - - - - - -15 00
*** Advertisements to a limited extent,
will be inserted nt the rate of 50 cents for a
square of twelve lines or less, for the first in
sertion, and 30 cents for each subsequent
insertion. Business cards inserted for a year
at Five Dollars.
rfA liberal discount will lie made to Post j
Masters who will do us the favor to act as
Agents.
Postmasters are authorized to remit mo
hov to Publishers and all money mailed in
presence of the Postmaster, and duly for
warded b him, is at our risk.
rr ah communications to be addressed j
(post-paid) to E. J. PURSE,
Savannah, Ga.
FALLIG-ANT & TAYLOR,
CONTRACTORS & BUILDERS,
Shop corner Whitaker and Perry Streets,
j an 4 ly SAVANNAH.
W. S. LAWTON & CO.,
Warehouse & Commission Merchants,
MACON, GEORGIA.
LAWTON & DOWELL,
FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS.
No. 210 Ray St. Savannah, Ga.
Tender their Services to their Friends and the
Tiihlie nov2
W. S. WILLIFORD,
Auction fy Commission Me?chant,
MACON, GA.
O* All kinds of Merchandise and Produce
[except Liquors] received on Consignment.ot Pur
chased to Order. 1 yr nov 2
CLASSICAL & ENGLISH SCHOOL.
No. 159 Broughton-St.
BERNARD MALLON, Principal.
J. 11. LUTHER, A. M., Classical Teacher.
MISS V. JONES, Assistant. nov 9
GEO. M. WILLETT & CO.,
DEALERS in
GROCERIES , WINES, LIQUORS,
TOBACCO, SEG.4RS, FRUIT, PICKLES,
Preserves, Confectionary, \ Garden Seeds.
All kinds of Fish and Oysters, when in season.
No. 68 St. Julian and 101 Bryan Streets .
J P. A. Dcpo.n, \ (Waring’a Building.)
John R. Tebeaw, $ nov 3
BOOK AND JOB PRINTING.
GEO. N. NICHOLS,
(Owens Building, opposite the Pulaski House,)
SAVANNAH, GA.
Is prepared to execute all work in his line, with
neatness and despatch, and in a style
not to be surpassed.
Prices as reasonable as any other establishment
in the city. ly sept 28
G-. BUTLER,
MASTER BUILDER,
DEALER IN WHITE PINE LUMBER,
York Street, Oglethorpe Square.
N. U.—He is prepared to put in Iron fronts
in Stores, &c. ly nct T?
T. R. CLARKE,
FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER,
Next door to corner Bull and Broughton-sts.
•ct 10 ly
A. PONCE,
Importer and IManufacturer of Segars,
No. 13 Whitaker Street,
Keeps on hand a well selected stock ot impoited j
Betjars ; also Manufactured Tobacco, Snuff, I ipes,
ud all other articles usually kept in his line ot
business, which he offers on the most reasonable
terms. ly ocl
E. T. SHEFTALL,
ATTORNEY A T LAW,
may 2.) DUBLIN, GEORGIA.
MEDICAL NOTICE.
DOCTOR MOREL. Office No. 157 Brough
ton Street. ts mar 23
J DE MARTIN,
DEALER IN
Fruits, Wines, Liquors, Segars,
PICKLES, PRESERVES and GARDEN SEEDS.
—: also: —
APPLES, ONIONS <s• POTATOES,
When in season, received fresh by ex cry vessel.
—: also: —
Oysters put up to order in from 1 to 10 gallon kegs.
Corner of Bay and \V bitaker Streets,
JOHN OLIVER,
HOUSE AND SIGN PAINTER,
GILDER, GLAZIER, &c.,
JV#. 121 Broughton Street, a few doors east of
Whitaker Street, Savannah, (ia.
All kinds of Paints —Paint Oil, Turpentine,
Varnish, Glass, Putty, &c., for sale. July 20
EDWARD G. WILSON,
JUSTICE OF THE PEACE,
Conveyancer, Collector, Accountant 4* Copyist,
Office under .T. M. Haywood’s.
tiT Return Day. Wednesday, January 22d.
COLLINS & BULKLEY.
Importers and Dealers in
CROCKERY CHINA <fc GLASS WARE,
FAMILY Harrtwaie, Table Cutlery, Wood and |
Willow Ware, Lamps, Lanterns, Wicks, &c.,
Also, Camphine and Burning Fluid, Together ;
with a great variety of Fancy and House Furnish- I
hing Goods, at Low Prices.
No. 100 Brvan St., Savannah, Ga.
J. r. COLLINS, )
T. A. BULKLEY. ) nov 2
MRS. SILBER,
MILLINER <s* DRESS MAKER
No. 157 CONGRESS STREET,
Has the pleasure of informing the
BmP Ladies, that she has returned
from New York with a beautiful
assortment of Silk Pattern Bonnet-*, all colors,
Straw, Leghorn, and New Fashioned style of Jen-
Lind Bonnets. French Flowers and Ribbons,
°f the latest styles, and a general assortment of
lancyjGoods and Trimmings. Also the Latest
I” ishion of Silks, Cassimere, Moustine de Lane
h*.., he, oct 26
Denote to 1 iterature, Iriutre unit Jlrf, tjje lons nf (Trmperniire, (Dili Jtllanisijiji, Jtennrtj unit tlje Jims nf tjje llaif.
P. JACOBS’
SEGAR MANUFACTORY,
No. 27 Bull Street.
IHE SUBSCRIBER keeps on hand at all times
the best Brands oi Havana Segars, and is ready
to fill orders tor Country Merchants and others,
as low as any other establishment in the Cit'.
He also Manufactures Segars nf various quali
ties, and has on hand the best of Chewing Tobac
co, Snuff, &c. Segar holders, Pipes—common
and fancy—Port Monies, Segar Cases, Tobacco,
1 ouches, &c. Orders from the Country wiil be
punctually attended to. nov 2
McARTHOR & MORSE,
Manufacturers and Dealers in
PLAIN, JAPANNED & BLOCK TIN WARE,
HOLLOW & ENAMELLED WARE,
STOVES AND COOKING RANGES,
Lead Pipe, Sheet Lead. Copper and Zinc,
STORE, l;j BARNARD STREET.
All kinds of Copper, Tin and Sheet Iron Work,
done in the best manner, at the shortest notice.
p pt 21 l yr
ALLEN & BALL,
FACTORS & COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
No. 112 BAY STREET,
SAVANNAH, GA.
J. M. BALL & CO.,
Commission fH ercfta nt s,
MACON, GEORGIA.
ROBERT A. ALLEN, JANIES M. BALL,
sept 20 iy
N. ELLS,
FASHIONABLE BOOT MAKER,
No. 101 Broughton-st., near the corner of Bull-st.
oct 12 ts
JONES & PAPOT,
Shipwrights, Spar Makers,
AND CAULKERS.
Yard opposite R &. J. Lachlison’s Foundry.
R. H. DARBY,
rmr jmL. at ■ m m „
Corner Broughton and Whitaker Streets,
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.
R. H. D. is prepared to execute all orders for
Making or Cutting on reasonable terms
mar 9 ly
J. S. STURTEVANT,
MASTER BUILDER,
Corner Montgomery and Liberty Sts.
All orders in his line will be promptly attended
to, and faithfully executed. ly june 1
JOHN V. TARVER,
FACTOR 4- COMMISSION MERCHANT
EXCHANGE WHARF, SAVANNAH, GA.
RABUN & FULTON,
COMMISSION MERCHANTS,
No. 207 Bay Street, Savannah, Ga.
J. W. RABUN, R. L. FULTON, I. P. WHITEHEAD.
LANIER HOUSE,
BY LANIER & SON,
junc 22 Macon, Georgia.
J. HASBROUCK & CO.,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CHINA, GLASS AND EARTHENWARE ,
sept 21 BROUGHTON STREET, SAVANNAH.
S. Y. LEVY,
ATTORNEY AT LA W,
Office, No. 185 Bay-Street.
FRANCIS WAVER,
IMPORTING & COMMISSION MERCHANT,
No 107 Bay Street, Savannah, Geo.
PHILIP KEAN,
DRAPER AND TAILOR,
AND DEALER IN
READY MADE CLOTHING.
Penfield's Range, No. 98 Bryan Street,
Store formerly occupied by J. Southwell & Cos.
J. T. JONES,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
Dublctfc Single Guns, Rifles, &c.,
West Side of Monument Square.
A SHORT,
MASTER BUILDER,
Will take contracts for Building and Work in
Masonry of every description. Corner of South
Broad and Whitaker streets. may 26
CONTRACTOR AND BUILDER.
The subscriber is prepared to execute with
neatness and despatch all work in the above line.
142 Broughton St. Two Doors West of I. W.
MORRELL’S Furniture Store.
june 1 ly I. SOLOMONS, Agent.
CLOTHING,
PIERSON & HEIDT offer for sale CLOTHING,
Wholesale and Retail, at New fork juices. No.
10 Whitaker Street. apl 26
GAS PIPES AND FIXTURES.
STRATTON & DOBSON,
Having received an assortment of Chandeliers,
Pendants, Brackets and Portable Gas Burners,
respectfully invite the citizens of Savannah to
call at their store, No. 72 St. Julian street, and
examine the same 4t june 1
DR. J. DENNIS,
BOTANIC DRUGGIST,
Next door above L. C. Warren & Cos,
Augusta, Ga.
Keeps constantly on hand a choice assortment,
selected from the best establishments in the United
States, consisting of Emetics, Cathartics, Diapho
retics, Diuretics, Expectorants. Emmenagosrues,
Stimulants, Tonics, Astringents, Nervines, Alka
lies, Alteratives, Rubefacients, and Compounds
for family use. Composition Powder. No. Six,
Lobelia in its various preparations, & c., also
Medical Books. may 4
ALFRED HAYWOOD,
CORNER BRYAN AND BARNARD STREETS,
Market Square, Savannah,
Dealer in Choice FRUITS, CANDIES. NUTS,
ORANGES, LEMONS, APPLES, AND PO
TATOES, Wholesale and Retail.
First quality Thunderbolt Oysters, Fish, &c.
Newark refined Champaigne Cider, and Albany
Cream Ale, by the bbl.
tUP Orders from the Country, accompanied
by the cash or City reference, punctually attended
to ang 9
G. M. GRIFFEN,
£2* HAVING purchased the stock in trade of
thelate M. Eastman, would solicits the con
i patronage of all the friend of the
■ establishment. All customers shall be pleased
I with goods and satisfied with prices.
GEO. M. GRIFFEN-
N. B.—W atches and Chrometers will receive
i the personal attention of Mr. G. as usual,
j sept 12
DAGUERREOTYPES.
P. M. CARY would respectfully give notice to the
| public that his Rooms, corner Bryan Street and
! Market Square, are now open, where he will be
happy to wait upon all persons who would have
1 their pictures well taken. dec 7
Idwttlr |*>aetnj.
TO MARY IN HEAVEN.
BY ROBERT BURNS.
Thou lingering star, with less’ning ray,
Thatlov’st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher’st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary ! dear departed shade !
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his breast?
That sacred hour can I forget,
Can I forget the hallowed grove,
Where by the winding Ayr we met,
To live one day of parting love?
Eternity will not efface
Those records dear of transports past;
Thy image at our last embrace!
Ab, little thought we’t was our last!
Ayr girgling kissed his pebbled shore,
O’er hung with wild woods thick’ning
green;
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twin’d amorous round the raptured scene,
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
i ’Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim’d the speed of winged day,
Still o’er these scenes my mem’ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care !
Time but the impression stronger makes,
As strenms their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade !
Where is thy place of blissful rest ?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?
Hear’st thou the groans that rend his
breast ?
THE CHASE.
The stag, at eve, had drunk his fill,
Where danced the moon, on Monan’s rill,
And deep his midnight lair had made
In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade;
But, when the sun his beacon red
Had kindled, on Benvoirlich’s head,
The deep mouthed bloodhound’s heavy bay
Resounded up the rocky way,
And faint from farther distance borne,
Were heard the clanging hoof, and horn.
As chief, who hear his warder call,
•‘To arms! the foemen storm the wall,”
The antlered monarch of the waste
.Sprung from his heathery couch in haste.
But, ere his fleet career he took,
The dew drops, from his flanks, he shook;
Like crested leader proud and high,
Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky ;
A moment, gazed adown the dale,
A moment, snuffed the tainted gale,
A moment, listened to the cry,
That thickened as the chase drew nigh;
Then, as the headmost foes appeared,
With one brave bound, the copse he cleared,
And, stretching forward, free, and far,
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.
[Scott.
frlrrteii Cult.
[From Mrs. Ellis’ Morning Call.
SELF-DECEPTION;
OR, THE HISTORY OF A HUMAN HEART
CHAPTER VI.
Os all the curious phenomena
presented by the lives of self-de
ceivers, the manner in which they
sometimes deal wiih bodily pain is
at once the most surprising to look
ers on, and the most fertile in
sources of mistrust and suspicion.
It is almost impossible, for instance,
on some occasions, to believe in the
things they can do, and the things
they cannot do, according to the
prevailing inclinations of the mo
ment, although they may really be
lieve in such ability or inability
themselves. Indeed their own be
lief is not unfrequently so strong,
that they can resist one moment
every importunity of their friends
to refrain from doing lhat, which,
under slightly different circumstan
ces, yet with the same amount of
physical ability, they declare them
selves incapable of doing the next.
Inclination, in this manner, works
miracles upon the self-deceiver,
often calling up from the couch of
weakness and languor the debilita
ted form, and imparting that pleas
ant stimulus to all its energies which
neither draught nor globule had
been able to supply.
Such was the effect of various
and alternating influences in the
case of Elia More, that in process
of time those attacks of pain which
were the consequence of her acci
dent, assumed so dubious and fluc
tuating a character, lhat her malady
might almost have been described
as one of intermittent sprain, or re
mittent, rather, for there was no cal
culating beforehand when the pa
roxysms might come on, or when
there might be a cessation from pain
altogether. Sometimes, as has al
ready been described, she was able
to perform wonders, to sit up late,
to stand long and patiently, and
even to walk when there was the
right arm to lean upon ; while at
other times her inability to use any
exertion was greater than her
friends were prepared to expect.
SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1851.
On one occasion especially, when
Frazer Cunningham had announced
his final determination to leave the
Highlands in two days from that
lime, it seemed as if Ella was re
stored by miracle, for she almost
immediately expressed a desire to
have one ride more —just one, up a
wild romantic pass in the moun
tains, and back by the shores of a
beautiful lake. Os course her friends
exclaimed as much or more than
when she spoke of setting out for
London, for there was no duty in
this case, nothing but pleasure, and
that, too, of a somewhat doubtful
and dangerous character; for all
the Stuart family had learned to ap
prehend some mischance when the
two wild riders were out together.
Unfortunately Mr. Stuart was still
detained from home. Ella had con
sequently the ladies of the house
hold only to contend with, and these
she overcame by her affectionate
and always winning method of
pleading for the indulgence of her
wishes, if that might be called over
coming, which only prevented the
open exercise of authority in a posi
tive refusal to let her go. Besides
which, in order to the accomplish
ment of her purposes, Ella had al
ways had so many arguments ready,
she could make such self-denying
protestations too, for she was no
real hypocrite, only a self-deceiver,
that in addition to her irresistible
smiles, and soft and playful caresses,
she might almost, had her heart
been fully set upon it, have coaxed
the money out of the miser’s hoard.
Neither Mrs. Stuart nor Agnes
were able to bear up against this
persuasion, although their minds in
secret remained the same ; and al
though Ella assured them that they
quite misunderstood her in sup
posing lhat she wanted actually to
ride, that she was only intending to
creep along at a snail’s pace, that
her lame ancle reposing against the
saddle would really be rested rather
than fatigued—lhat it u’ould only
be once—this once—that she should
soon be far away in the dark dull
city, and might never see the dear
Highlands again, that she had a
perpetual headache from want of
exercise, and wanted so sadly to
breathe the fresh pure air again ;
that she was going home to a sick
room, and to long, long nursing
there—nobody knew how long;
and although her voice, when she
said this, fell low, and her dark
eyelashes lay heavy and thick upon
her lovely cheek, over which a tear
or two stole down—still, while they
offered no longer any open resist
ance, the mother and daughter re
mained of the same opinion—that
their young guest would he a great
deal belter at home that day, and
that they should have entertained a
much better opinion of her alto
gether, had she never attempted to
wheedle them out of the reluctant
permission, which they yielded at
last, but for which they blamed
themselves severely while they did
so.
A consent, however, it was, so
far as words might be made to im
ply one ; and on a bright and beau
tiful morning Ella More set out
upon her last excursion in the High
lands. Gladly would Mrs. Stuart
have sent a trusty servant with the
two equestrians, hut this they both
declined, promising at the same
time, and that with all sincerity ot
purpose, that they would only ex
tend their ride to a certain specified
distance, and never quicken their
speed beyond a walk.
Thus, then, the two equestrians
set out to ride together, as they
pathetically said, “ for the last
time ;” and yet they did not appear
very sad about the matter either. —
The fact was, they were too much
occupied with present pleasure to
realize the full meaning of those
words, by some hearts so truly and
so deeply understood— the last time!
Life had thus far brought no last
times to them—all was first —first
impressions, first enjoyments, first
hopes. In these their short expe
rience was so full and rich, that
they could well afford to talk about
the “ last time,” as those may tell
of gathering the last rose who know
lhat fresh roses will be blooming in
its place on the morrow.
Still it is a mistaken, and there
fore a sad experiment, to purchase
pleasure at the price of doing
wrong ; and if the two equestrians
were less happy in their mountain
ride that day than they had been
before, it was not altogether owing
to the near prospect ot separation,
but in fact to a lurking conviction,
which neither confessed to the other,
that they ought not to have been
there.
In these feelings of sadness na
ture appeared not to sympathise, for
never had a more brilliant morning
dawned upon the lakes and moun-
tains of that romantic land. Nor
was the distance only illuminated
by the beams of a cloudless sun.—
.The still waters by the side of which
they rode, lay beneath them like
molten silver, while through the in
terstices of the drooping boughs of
ash and elm, stole in bright rays of
golden sunlight which danced upon
the feathery fern, or glistened in
the pebbly brook, or gilded the
green moss upon the cold grey
stone, making the mountain side, or
forest glade, or rocky bed of wan
dering burn, a scene of almost
magic brilliance, such as the travel
ler stops to gaze at, lost in wonder
and delight to see a world of beauty
so close at hand, encircling his very
feet, and wooing them to wander
on and rest beneath the shade, upon
the velvet turf, or by the brink of
crystal streams, refreshing both to
eye and ear—their clear waters
ever and ever making soft music as
the}’ flow.
It is no trifling recommendation
to the scenery of this cloudy, misty
isle of ours, and especially to that
portion of it which lies north of the
Tweed, that it surpasses many oth
er countries in the beauty of its
foregrounds. Other lands may sup
ply the painter with scenes for
sketching outlines, blue distances
of sea and sky, and landscapes
with all the mellow, rich, and gor
geous tinting of a sun-illumined at
mosphere; but no painter would
mar those pictures by telling the ac
tual truth of their foregrounds; no
painter would disfigure his canvass
by that interminable length of
straight and dusty road, hemmed in
on either side by thick high walls,
over which the weary traveller tries
in vain to peep, in order to catch
a glimpse of the splendid scenery
with which he supposes himself to
be surrounded, but for any distinct
idea of which, he is in reality more
indebted to bis guide-book, than
most travellers would like to ac
knowledge. Os course there can
be no journey made through a ro
mantic, and especially through a
mountainous district, without occa
sional elevations, from whonce the
view is such as to make amends for
a whole day suffocation, dust, and
despair in the valley; but still for
the most part the foreground in
warm dry climates is arid, hare and
often absolutely ugly, filled up
more frequently with spectacles of
disgust and weariness, than with ob
jects of beauty.
What painter, for instance, ever
put into his picture those melan
choly specimens of humanity—the
old women of Italy—sun-dried and
shrivelled, with their loose, un
combed, uncovered hair, whitening
in the heat and glare of that volcan
ic climate ? who depicts those mon
strous forms of human suffering,
imbecility,or distortion, which often
are the only objects visible upon the
long line of road, and which lie
there in a kind of half alive con
dition, struggling to attract the eye
of the passing traveller, and making
all their feeble or convulsive efforts
tell to the one purpose of extorting
money from his purse? Does the
painter ever put into his picture the
heaps of refuse, the filth, and the
disorder lying around the doors of
all the humbler dwellings in some
of these far-famed scenes of beauty
and poetic interest? No; the paint
er knows an art beyond the mere
imitation of what he sees, he knows
what is issential to the perfect beau
ty of what is only beautiful in part,
and thus he keeps in reserve a never
failing supply of images adapted to
the foregrounds of his pictures, and
harmonising with the general tone
and character of his distant scenes.
Deeply versed in the requirements
of his art, he plants an aloe here,
places a mass of rock there, and
drives around them a few straggling
goats. He hangs over the dull and
dismal wall that never ending dra
per}", with its broad stripe of rich
and glowing color. He dips a fish
erman into the water’s edge, and
half launches his rude boat, which
also has the same drapery with
broad bright stripes. He opens a
fountain in the mountain’s side, and
invites to stand beside it the Roman
woman with her head-gear broad
and flat and white, and with her
pitcher or vase resting on the carved
stone of the fountain, to which, as
well as to the head-dress of the
women, he manages to give a clas
sical effect. Above all he plants
the stone pine beside a mass of rock
or ruin, draws it up with a tall bold
stem, gives it a flat and busby head,
and then the painter’s work is done.
But for the traveller it remains to
find out what does grow there—what
does lie, rot, or grovel in the fore
ground, or at the base of those mag
nificent hills.
For this reason it is—simply be
cause of the ugliness of the real
foregrounds, that most English
travellers, on first going abroad, ex
perience a degree of disappoint
ment, and often of disgust, where
they were prepared to feel nothing
but adi niration and delight; and in
the same degree, travellers from the
Continent, and indeed from many
different and distant portions of
the globe, on first visiting England,
are so enchanted with the beauty of
all immediate objects, as to ima- |
gine themselves passing through a
perpetual garden. That universal
green, which charms the eye of the
traveller in England, is not perhaps
the aspect of nature best calculated
for the painter’s art; and Scotland,
especially, rich as that country is in
all those bold and varied outlines
which the artist delights in, has too
much to cloud and damp in her gen
eral atmosphere, to afford the col
ouring required for a painting to
please the eye. It is for the travel
ler especially lhat her beauties are
unfolded. It is for the traveller
that her misty skies produce a feast
of beauty to the eye, which never
can he produced by a climate
which is clear and dry. It is to the
traveller that she exhibits those fai
ry glimpses of moss and fern
which so often convert the side of
the rude mountain, the carpeting of
the wild forest, or the margin of the
gushing torrent, into a perfect scene
of enchantment. It is here that the
wild rose blooms in perfection,
blushing more deeply than else
where, with a consciousness of her
own surpassing loveliness. It is
here that the native birch hangs out
her graceful drapery, clothing with
her delicate fringe of drooping
boughs the dark brow of the sterile
rock, while her white and wand-like
stem gleams up amidst the blocks
of hoary granite, giving a lightness
and a beauty to the scene which art
would strive in vain to imitate.
And then those glorious streams
which intersect a rocky and rain
washed country —from the wimp
ling burnie of Scotland to her full
and fresh flowing rivers—what a
voice do these give to her mountain
solitudes, what a living charm do
they impart to the course of the
traveller as he threads the mazes
of some broomv wilderness, wan
ders amongst the purple heather,
sits down upon the green brae to
watch the eddying torrent in its
flow, or traces with his eye, from
the lofty mountain crag, those lines
of silver beauty which wind along
the different valleys? The ful
ness, and abundance of these
water-courses should never be for
gotten when we complain of the
clouds and mists of Scotland , nor
would it be amiss sometimes, when
disposed to murmur at the varia
bleness or gloom of her climate, to
compare these crystal rivers with
the thick and lazy flow of the yel
low Tiber enclosed within its banks
of mud; or even with that of the
classic Arno, as a substitute for
whose farfamed and poetic si ream,
the traveller must often be content
to find little more than a dry bed
of gravel, with one small stripe of
running water. Even this is denied
to many of the celebrated streams
in sunnier climates than our own,
through a large portion of the year,
when a dull grey line of sand or
gravel remains as the only repre
sentative of a river, to tell where its
waters once have been.
In short, the scenery of Scotland
wants nothing but a clear sky to ren
der it perhaps the most beautiful on
earth ; but if with a brighter atmos
phere, thegreenness and the growth
of those innumerable plants adorn
the foreground of her landscapes,
and the musical flow of her abun
dant srteams would have to be sac
rificed, there are few who would not
rather have her rains and torrents,
her mists and her ferns, her storms
and her pines, with her alternations
of shade and sunshine, revealing ob
jects in themselves so beautiful, that
if the picture is soon veiled again,
and the glorious panorama of lakes
and mountains often hidden from
the view, the impression, the mem
ory, the love, which these scenes
create, remains with the heart for
ever.
But to return to our story, for we
have the inner world of human
feeling to describe, rather than the
outer world of nature’s beauty.
If either of the young travellers
who had set out on the day’s excur
sion already described, was capa
ble of receiving any deep or lasting
impression from the scenery around
them, it was Elia More; but to her
these impressions were but faint
and fitful as dreams, so that when
ever her mind did really wake to
the loveliness of the scenes which
lay stret’ hed around her, it was
very much as a child awakes to the
morning light rubbing its eyes to
see it more distinctly, glad that it is
come, glad lo arise and go out into
the broad sunshine, yet thinking of
itself all the while, of what it shall
do or enjoy, and especially of how
much good for itself it shall be able
to draw out of another long sum
mer’s day.
The present summer’s day
seemed likely to be all too short lor
Ella More, and vet as she rode
along the side of a placid lake,
catching at intervals bright glimps
es of the silvery waters through the
drooping foliage of trees, which
with their out stretched arms on
one side overshadowed her path,
and on the other hung above the
lake—as she passed slowly along
with alternate sunlight and shadow
falling on her head,there wasa sense
of sadness about her heart, which
for some lime she vainly attempted
to get rid of by laughing as much
as she could at all that was jocose
in the conversation of her compan
ion and of this there was generally
more than enough. In spite of
herself, however, laughter this day
died away upon Iter lips, almost be
fore there had been time for it to be
taken up, and whispered again by
those soft echoes which sometimes
seem to run like quick spiris along
the mountain sides. Ella persuaded
herself that the heaviness of heart
by which she fell oppressed was ow
ing to the near prospect of separation
from her friends, but it was too hea
vy for that—too leaden and depres
sing in its weight; it made her heart
sore too, as some heavy burden
galls the traveller, and thus adds
smarting pain to the weariness of
long travel. Above all, it turning
her thoughts prepetuallv to her
father, and when she passed acci-
upon the road, a little
barefooted girl, leading a blind man,
and guiding him carefully over the
stones and water-courses, she recal
led the lime when she used to wait
upon her own father, to read to
him, to sit beside him, to fetch him
what he wanted,and then to receive
her reward in the soft pressure of
his hand upon herhead, or his affec
tionate kiss upon her cheek. In
fact Ella wishes she had not seen
that little girl guiding the steps of
her blind father. It wasa beauti
ful sight, but it made her feel more
uncomfortable than before; and
she began to wish that she had
not gone out for her own pleasure,
but had taken ihe good advice of
her friends, and had remained at
home to prepare for her journey to
London, which she now determin
ed to set out upon without loss of
time. Ah, what good resolutions
we can form when conscience kind
ly makes us miserable for not hav
ing formed and acted upon them
before !
1 hc.>c thoughts made Ella more
than usually silent duiing the latter
portion of that day; and hut that
hot e\c>, whenever she directed
them lo the countenance of her
companion, spoke many things
which pleased him quite as well as
words, he would have thought her
very absent and inattentive to that
fund of pleasantry which he was
not much in the habit of finding
had not the power to please. All
these regrets, however, in the mind
of Ella, were lost sight of on their
return home, when making their
last turn in a winding mountain
path which led down to the vallev
where Mr. Stuart’s residence was
situated, the two travellers came at
once upon a far-stretching western
view, wdth the declining sun wrap
ped in his mantle of golden clouds
immediately before them. Be
tween the distant horizon and the
promontory of high ground on
which they stopped to gaze on the
splendid panorama before them, lav
a long perspective of mountain
slopes, terminating in a green val
ley spotted here and there with vil
lages, cottages, and cultivated
plots of ground—here and there
with the grouping together of tall
pines with their red stems and
branches gleaming like warriors
a med in the sunlight—while per
haps, more beautiful than all, might
be seen in tlie thickly wooded in
terstices of the hills the stealing
cataract, silent in its far distance,
curling down into the deeper tor
rent, and then dischnrcinsr its
waters into the broad lake waveless
ns a sea of gold, over which the
dark mountains seemed to haiv
their majestic heads, as if in the
act of contemplating their own re
flected forms in the deep waters be
low.
“I shall never behold this scene
again !” said Ella More, in a tone
ol \oice which was less in harmo
ny with tier young and blooming
countenance, than prophetic of a
destiny, of which at this moment,
for the first time in her life, she
might seem to have some vague
presentiment. “1 shall never ba-
NUMBER 47.