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146
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
MY LETTER
Silently, thoughtfully, breaking your seal,
Dear little letter ! come hither to me;
■What will your close-written pages reveal ?
No one is near—come here, let me see 1
Hist! For my heart would commune with ye, now,
Pretty leaves! with mirth are ye gnshing ?
Or place ye your hands on my heart and brow,
My exquisite joyousness hushing?
Over my soul flows the river of Love!
Let us sit on its banks for awhile;
Come, rest on my truth, as the innocent dove,
On a breast that is free from all guile.
Fondly, confidingly, stirred by no fear.
Read t, and gaze cn your innermost heart,
A music delicious pervading the air,
And I dream—we're no longer apart!
I glow, for I read of love true and deep,—
The future's a rapturous dream of Bliss !
And tears of joy will, in spite of me, creep
Down the cheek, that has felt his warm kiss.
Tenderly, trustingly, speak to me still.
Heed not these tears, they're bom of delight;
Dear little missive! how strangely ye thrill
With the errand you've come on to-night!
’Tiaall serene now! —come, rest thee awhile,
Here, here, on my bosom, blessing and blest.
Sent forth in love, and met with love's smile,
Dote'from the heart! on my heart find thy rest!
Stella.
—
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
JACK HOPETON AND HIS FRIENDS
OR,
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GEORGIAN.
BY WM. wTtURNEE.
“ I witnessed the will myself, because the old
man begged me to do it, being mightily down
in the mouth, saying he wanted to do justice to
somebody he had wronged, and all that. I went
after the’lawyer, and fixed the whole matter, as
Mr. Warlock wanted to keep his sons from know
ing anything about I only signed as a witness,
and didn t hear it read. The lawyer who wrote
it may keep it a secret or not. I got the one I
was told to get. My part of the business was
done sly enough, and the boys were none the
wiser for it The rest would have been done
right too, if Mr. Warlock had let me bring the
will to you.
“ But I b’lieve he expected to do something
else with it. Any how, he kept it awhile, and
then give it to you with his own hands ; and a
pretty kettle of fish he made of it. Jake "W ar
lock is as cunning as any varmint, and all tho
time you and his old daddy was talking, he was
listening at the key-hole.
“ Somehow, ever since you be friended me, and
kept me out of jail, when nobody else would, I
have felt like doing wnat I could to serve you.
I know it is agin human natur to be grateful,
but I don’t believe I am exactly human any way.
£t least I can’t help liking you, for befriending
" When I first heard ot 1 your difficulty with
the Warlocks, I knew you were in some danger,
for they are cowardly devils, and will shoot a
man down without giving him a chance ; so I
concluded to get thick with them, and find out
all their plans. I knew they were going to at
tack you and your son thatevtning, and was hid
in a black-jack thicket, with my bead drawn on
old Warlock, when you dropped him so sweetly.
I didn’t show myself because I did'nt want them
to know I was your friend. I knowed I could
save you best by pretending to be their friend.
“ Since the change in the old man, Jake and
Joe have been thicker with me than ever; and that
day you got the will, you hadn’t been gone from
the house more than an hour, before I knowed
all about it.
“To-day, you and Mr. Harper here, and Jack
and tliis Mr. Fitzwarren, went to see Mr. War
lock, and ’twant long before Jake and Joe had
hunted me up, and told me that the very fellow
the old man had left half his property to** had
been to their house, and his name was Fitzwar
ren, and they wanted him put out of the way.
They said they’d had euough of you, and be
sides, if you were killed, their hatred toward
you was so well known, it would raise the whole
country against them. And more than that,
killing you wouldn’t hinder the property from
going to Fitzwarren.
“ They said, though, that good luck had thrown
the game right in the way; and they wanted to
hire me to ‘ do the job,’ as they called it.—
The damned, infernal hell-hounds 1 ’Twas all I
could do to keep from settling tlteir hash on the
spot, and I kept playing with the trigger of my
rifle, and putting my hand on my knife handle.
“Nol” and the tall form of the hunter seem
ed to tower still higher as he spoke, “No !
There is blood on this hand; but it was shed,
not for gold, but for revenge !
“ I say ’twas all I could do to keep from doing
their job on the spot; but I choked down my
feelings, and told them in a joking way : I’d see
’em damned first —that they might do their own
dirty work.
“ They said, then they’d do it themselves; so
if the gentleman is your friend, you can do as
you think best.’’
With these words, the long mortal shouldered
his rifle to go.
Hold on, Gaunt,’’said my father, “Is that
all?”
“ Yes.”
“ And can’t you tell any more ?”
“ No. What more would you have ?”
“ I want to know the time when, and the place
where, they intend to execute their hellish in
tentions.’’
“ But all this I don’t know.”
“ Can you give us no clue ?”
“ None. I was afraid to question them too
closely, for fear they’d suspect mo. I know this,
though, that they intend to ‘ execute their hell
ish intentions,’ as you call it, the first chance.”
“ Can’t you manage to worm something out
of them ?”
“ P'raps I may, next time.”
“In the meantime, Gaunt,” said I, “ for my
sake, you will do what you can to keep harm
away from Fitzwarren, who is my triend ?”
“Es he’s your friend, yes. Otherwise, he
might die, for me.”
“ You are bitter, frieDd,” said Tom.
“ Yes, and the man who passes through what
I have, will always be gall itself.”
“ Well, Gaunt,” said my father, since you
promise so much, I shall be better satisfied.”
“ I’ll watch the boys. They may bp too smart
for me, but 'taint likely, you know, Mr. Hope
ton.”
“ Not very.”
“It seems to me, though,” interrupted Tom,
“ the plainest way, would be to get Mr. Gaunt
to make his depositions before a magist r ate, aud
have these men arrested.”,
“ Yes," said Gaunt, “ but I’ve got a voice in
the matter, and I’ll be damned if I go before any
magistrate-—begging your pardon, Mr. Harper.”
• “Ah well; that, of course, alters the case.”
“ Gaunt is not lond of magistrates, Mr. Har
TUB 80VSBSRX YXB&9 AND EJJMSSJUK.
per,” explained my father; “ and that course
would not put a stop to the matter any way."
“ I think it would, father,” said I. “ Know
ing the public to be aware of the threats they
had made against Fitzwarren, they would have
the same reason for not attacking him, that they
have for not troubling you.”
“ True ; but this same object can be effected
in a different way. Gaunt, you make an ar
rangement to meet Jake and Joe Warlock at
some place where w'e will conceal ourselves, and
hear them discuss their plans, and make their
propositions to you. Then we will come out, tell
them their designs are discovered,* and that if
harm comes to Fitzwarren, they will surely be
suspected. This, I think, will cause them to give
up their fell purpose.”
“ Well, sir,” answered Gaunt. “Come to the
Foxhole Rock, the day after to-morrow —a half
dozen of you—and hide in that little place you
know of, about three o’clock in the evening.—
I’ll tell the boys to meet me there between four
and five o’clock, and then you can listen to your
heart’s content. I tell you to come an hour be
fore our time, so that Jake and Joe, won’t, by
any chance, see you until you are ready.”
“ We’ll go sooner than three, Gaunt. Two
o’clock will find Mr. Harper, Charley Hampton.
Jack, my overseer, and myself, safely housed.
I must be sure that you won’t come till we ore
ready for you.”
“ All right. Good night, gentlemen.”
“ But hold on 1” said Mr.. Hopeton. “ Stay
all night.”
“ Can’t do it; much obliged to you.”
“ Where are you going, this time of night ?”
“ That’s my business.”
And the tall form of the hunter was soon out
of sight, as he strode off through the dark
grove.
“ Now, Mr. Hopeton,” said Tom, “ can you,
and will you tell me, who and what this queer
chap is?”
“ Briefly, then, for I am getting sleepy. lie
is originally from Florida, and is the son of a Span
iard who married an American girl. You can
see the Spaniard in his appearance, and in a cer
tain vindictiveness which he displays; but there
is much good in him. It is true that when he
hates, it is as a fiend, but (or a man he likes,
he is ready to die. I befriended him, formerly,
in various ways—too tedious to mention —and
he is devoted to me. He is in very bad odor
with most people, or with a great many, at least,
and chooses to consider himself an outlaw.
“ This is why he dislikes magistrates: but al
though he once committed a deed which many
would call murder, he is in no danger now,
from tho law. He ranges from here to L
county, having several little hiding places, but I
can always find him, when I want his services.
“ Brooding over his wrongs, and fancying he
is hunted of men, he has become a little crazy—
a monomaniac—though perfectly sane on all sub
jects but one. This must satisfy your curiosity
for to-night. At some other time, I will tell you
more. Good night.”
CHAPTER XIII.
Horses were brought to the door on the day
appointed by Gaunt, and those of us designed
as witnesses, mounted them and rode oft', calling
by the house of Jones and taking him with us.
Right through the plantation we went, for a
mile and a half, when we saw in the distance an
immense swamp. Arrived at this, following the
example of my father, we dismounted, and, put
ting aside the bushes, led our horses somo dis
tance into the swamp, and tied them, where
they would be unseen by any one passing on the
outside, even close to the spot where we enter
ed! The ground, as far as we had gone, though
soft, was by no means miry.
“Now,’’Baid my father, as we emerged from
the swamp, “we must take this path which runs
along just outside the thicket.”
“Won’t those fellows see our tracks?” in
quired Tom Harper.
“ No. They will come on the other side, and
tie over there. They have no business on my
premises.”
The path led us on half a mile along a swamp
which grew thicker as we proceeded, until it
seemed to become absolutely impenetrable by
any thing except a mink or a moccasin.
“We must enter here,” said our guide, sud
denly stopping.
“Yes,” said Uncle Charley, looking at the al
most solid barrier before him. “Yes, when the
way has been cleared; but where is your corps
of pioneers ?”
“We don’t need any. Just follow my exam
ple.”
Saying which, my father, after looking care
fully around to see if any one was observing us,
stopped, and opening the thick undergrowth,
crept on liis all-fours. We followed for about a
score of paces, when suddenly our guide stood
upright, and walked on in a plain, well-beaten
path.
“Well, Harry,” said Uncle Charley, again,
“ I should as soon have thought of forcing away
through a stone wall, as into this swamp.”
“You see, though, Charley, it was very easily
done.”
“Yes; but how did you know where to come
in ? Every thing looked alike to me outside.”
“There is a difference, however.”
“You must be lynx-eyed to discover it.”
“ Not at aIL Mr. Harper, there, knows very
well how a practiced eye sees things which an
inexperienced one will never perceive. His
frontier life has taught him that.”
“ Well, roll on, and let’s see the end of it.”
A brisk walk for a few hundred yards, follow
ed this conversation.
“ We must now change our course again,” said
my father.
“ But the path keeps straight on,” said Uncle
Charley.
“ I know it.”
“ Well, in the name of Columbus, how are
you going to navigate this blind swamp without
path or compass?”
“ Follow me, and you’ll see, Charley.”
“Very well, Harry. We are anxious to pur
sue this Arabian Night’s adventure. How ro
mantic 1 Who would have thought that prosy
old Hopeton could afford any thing of the sort?”
Once more my father crept on his hauds and
knees through the swamp, having turned at right
angles to the path in which we had been walk
ing; and again, at the end of a few paces, he
rose up in a clear, plain track. Following this
for some distance, the nature of the ground be
gan to change, and soon became so miry that it
would have been impossible to proceed, but for
a very simple contrivance which is common where
these swamps exist. At the beginning of the
marsh a tree had been felled, and at the end of
this one another, and another; so tliere was
formed a continuous bridge on which we crossed
the water and ooze.
At the end of a quarter of a mile, the nature of
the ground Changed once more; and this time
abruptly, for wo stepped off our log-way on firm,
solid earth. This latter way, a small, circular
island, about an acre in extent, raised a great
deal higher than the surrounding swamp. On
this island grew forest trees of large size; and
indeed it was exactly like any other upland.—
Proceeding to the centre of this spot, we found
under a group of trees a huge rock, or pile of
rocks, rent into seams and fissures, over which
grew wild vines and briars.
“Here is our hiding place, gentlemen,” said
my'father. “ Gaunt is to meet Jake and Joe
Warlock at this rendezvous. They think they
are well acquainted with the spot: and they do
know something about it; but I will show you
one thing of the existence of which they have
no idea.”
“ Wait, Harry,” exclaimed Uncle Charley. I
can do it just as well as you can. ‘Open Sesa
me I’ Sure enough, it doesn’t obey.”
“ Try again, Charley.”
“ No; the charm is gone, or I’ve forgotten the
word. Go ahead yourself.”
“You see this Mttle fissure in the rock?”
“Yes.”
“ Through it we are to hear the precious mach
inations of these young beasts. But the en
trance is on the ofiier side. Let’s walk round.
• When we arrived on tli? opposite side, a thick
vine was drawn away, disclosing an aperture,
stopped by a roundjsh stone, about twice as large
as a man’s body. This was pushed inward, and
following our guide, who dragged himself through
this hole, we found ourselves in a cavity of con
siderable size, where we could stand upright.—
When we had all passed in, the vine, which was
an evergreen, was pulled back to its former po
sition, completely hiding the door-way from any
who might view the rock from the outside.—
Light and air came in tlrough various cracks
and apertures around, so that we were comfort
able enough.
“Now, gentlemen,” sail our conductor, once
more, “ let us all get as mar this side as we can,
conveniently; for the plotters will sit just out
side here, and we must heir their conversation.
“ And now,” he continied, as we all obeyed,
“we must maintain perfeit silence; for there is
no knowing how soon tho e follows will be here.
They may come before the appointed time.”
It is useless to detail tht circumstances which
followed. Our plan was carried out successfully.
After hearing enough from the Warlocks to crim
inate them in a court of justice, we emerged,
silently, from our concealnent, crept round, and
were upon them before th«y were aware of our
approach. Never were nen more astonished.
They had no idea where *e had been hid. Few
words were wasted. My father stated simply
and clearly, what we had ieard, what would be
tho consequences were tiey prosecuted—the
fact that if Fitzwarren shcild be killed, there
would now be witnesses te appear against them
as the probable murderers
It was an easy matter to exact from them a
solemn promise that they vould pursue the mat
ter no farther, on condition that wo would not
institute proceedings agaiist them. We pre
tended to consider Gaunt as an accomplice, and
made him give the same promise that the others
did. They left the island in a direction opposite
that in which we came, loin Harper watched
them as they filed off.
“ Don’t they know any tl ing of tho other ap
proaclf, Mr. Hopeton ?” he asked.
“ No,” was the reply, “ this by which we came
is my private entrance —con ing from my plan
tation, you know. We are now standing near
ly on a line between Warlock's plantation and
mine. However, Gaunt kLows all about the
way we came.”
“ I can very readily imagine they don’t know
your entrance',” said Uuncle Charley, “ for though
I came in by it two hours ago, hang me if I can
see where it is, now.”
And, in truth, though I had been to tho spot
a few times before, I, igyself, could not fix my
eyes on tho exact place where wo had entered,
the end of the log off’ which we had stepped,
being completely hidden from view.
“More than that, Harry,” resumed Uncle
Charley, “ I don’t believe you yourself can find
egress, and tho finale of our romantic adventure
will be a blind struggle through mud and briars
to get out of this infernal swamp.”
“ Don’t be uneasy, my drawing-room friend,”
was the reply. “ Trust to my guidance once
more, and I will lead you safely out of this
‘ slough of despond,’ into which you have fallen.”
Again we “ followed our leader, ’’ and were
soon in the saddle and on our way home.
The reader need hardly be told that Uncle
Charley’s ignorance was affected; that he was
wearing his mark that morning, as he always
did the company of strangers. Never was there
a truer man, in every sense of this word, than
this fashionable old bachelor. He was capable
of taking care of himself everywhere.
CHAPTER XIV.
Several merry weeks did we all spend at
Hopeton. Various were the means to whicn
we resorted for amusement; and among them
all, flirtation seemed to be in most repute. Many
of our guests were fashionable people, however,
and they began to leave for the watering places.
Os all the flirtations commenced, that between
Uncle Charley and the queenly Mrs. Holmes,
was the only one which seemed to result in any
thing serious. My father and I watched these
experienced stagers very closely, and. in spite of
their self-control, thought we could discover evi
dence of gonuine feeling in both. Indeed, as
tho reader already knows, the gentleman had
made a confession; the lady, however, strove
hard to conceal the real state of her heart.
But they left Hopeton without coming to any
understanding.
“ I don’t know whether Mrs. Holmes is so
heartless as she is represented to be,” said my
father, “ but I have watched her narrowly, and
I am satisfied of one thing; that she either loves
Charley or hates him. She is not indifferent to
ward him. Which is it, Mrs. Hopeton? You
women know each other best.”
“In this instance, though,” said my mother,
“ I am very much at a loss myself.”
“ Mrs. Holmes did not make you her confi
dante, then?”
“ No. And if she had, do you suppose I
would tell you anything? Besides, if she had
told me that she loved Charley, how would I
know that she was not wearing meshes for him,
knowing how intimate he is with us?”
“ True. However, I suppose you used your
powers of observation?”
“Yes, but have come to no conclusion. I
can’t help thinking, though, that Charley and
Mrs. Holmes might love each other, did they not
entertain a mutual fear, and a doubt of each
other’s sincerity.”
“I think you have formed a correct judgment,
Mrs. Hopeton.”
“Indeed, Mr. Hopeton, you know Charley
has acknowledged his love. I rather think, as
I have already said, that Mrs. Holmes would re
turn his affection, could she be persuaded he
was not trying to get that threatened advan
tage.”
“Well, they are suffering now for their former
folly. Let them pass. They may meet at Phil
lipi—id. est. Cotoosa.”
“ And may understand each other, or may
not. If they do not, they can blame nobody
but themselves.”
Soon Hopeton was entirely deserted by its
guests. The fashionables went to fashionable
resorts. Fitzwarren also went —no one knew
where.
«I don’t know, myself,’ 1 said he, “ where I’ll
go. Perhaps to some of your watering places—
perhaps to Canada. But I shall be in my rooms
at the University, at the opening of next term.
I hope you will come promptly, Hopeton.”
“You may look for me on the first day of the
term,” was my reply, as I shook his hand.
Tom Harper went home. My parents wished
to go up the country for a few weeks, and pro
posed for me to go with them.
“As you will be gone but a short time,” said
I, “ and Tom Harper has asked me to visit him,
now, I think, is the most favorable time for me
to do so.”
Accordingly, while Mr. and Mrs. Hopeton
went among the fashionables, I spent a most
agreeaDle fortnight with my companion of the
prairies. At the end of that time, I returned
home, and the rest of the vacation I spent with
my best friends —my parents.
October again found me leading the life of a
student —sometimes merry, sometimes sad;
sometimes quiet and studious, occasionally rat
tling and boisterous. I continued, however, to
devote most of my lime to books, and made
tolerably fair progress. The next two or three
years I passed pretty much as I had begun
—studying at the University, during term time,
and generally going home during vacation.
Fitzwarren and I became more and more inti
mate, and even attached to each other; though,
still, a certain reserve manifested itself when
ever our conversation took a turn which would
seem to require him to speak of himself. Indeed,
he would not say anything with regard to his
former history, but always managed, coldly and
calmly, to introduce other topics. Generally he
spent part of vacation with me; and sometimes
we travelled through the mountains of Georgia.
I even enticed him to Cotoosa, once, but with
great difficulty. When not with me, he either
stayed at the University, or made excursions of
which he never afterwards spoke, and concern
ing which I, together with eveiy one else, was
entirely ignorant.
And so the tempus fugited during my collegiate
course.
CHAPTER XV.
In East Florida, near enough the coast to
catch the pleasant sea-breeze which forms so de
lightful a feature of climate, stood Bentwold,
the residence of Horace Bentley, Esq. At a
considerable distance from the house, ran a pub
lic road, immediately on the side of which a
spacious gateway opened into the grounds of the
estate.
Just inside this gate commenced a broad,
smooth carriage road, winding gracefully •through
a singularly beautiful piece of forest, composed
almost entirely of evergreens. From the public
road the house was plainly discernible, being
on a considerable elevation; but after passing
through the gateway, the visitor could no longer
see it, hidden as it was by the sudden turnings
and meanderings of the road.
On each side of the carriage-way was a line
of noble live-oaks and magnificent pines, grown
to an enormous size; and the long, outstretched
arms and mossy trunks of the former contrasted
in a striking manner with the tall, straight
shafts and eorflpact foliage of the latter.
The forest*etretched away as far as tho eye
could reach, on either hand, and was intersected
by numerous cleanly-kept roads, over which one
could easily imagine how delightful it would be
to walk or ride. The whole of the wood had |
been entirely cleared of undergrowth, and pre
sented one vast pleasure-ground, so clean, that
even a fashionably-attired lady might wander
through it without the danger of forming “ en
tangling alliances ” with briers or brushwood.
At some distance from the public highway, a
sudden turn in the carriage road brought one in
full front view of the house, standing on a beau
tiful and gently rising eminence. Here the
character of the growth began to change; and
near the building it partook of the nature of
shrubbery, but such shrubbery as, in a colder
climate, would bo called trees. Here, indeed,
commenced a grove fit .for the habitation of
Houris. Not all the gorgeous magnificence of
oriental scenery could excel that scattered by
Nature’s lavish hand, in this obscure corner of
the New World.
The imagination might in vain exhaust itself
in the effort to conceive ot a scene more sur
passingly lovely than that here displayed. And
with It art had comparatively little to do. The
magnolia and the orange had long grown, aud
but little more was required than to thin them
out, aud prune them of some of their too luxu
riant growth.
The priceless shrubs and flowers, elsewhere
nursed in hot-houses, here mingled their intoxi
cating perfumes, flourishing in the open air, with
a luxuriance of growth, a brilliancy of color,
and a deliciousness of odor, unknown to the
sickly productions of forcing beds.
In parts of this grove, the trees were so scat
tered that it was easy to wander among them in
all directions, always protected from the rays of
the sun by the locked branches overhead. Again
there were groups and lines of varied form, and
occasionally, clumps of beantiful vines and thick
growing shrubs. There were also vistas, and
far-reaching openings, through which one might
catch glimpses of distant objects; the heavy forest
—the white sandy beach, or the bright water,
with a boat or sail on its rippling bosom.
Scattered through tho whole, were numerous
rustic seats and tables, where one might sit and
read, or write, or dream, according to the whim
of the moment. Pavilions and summer-houses
peeped out from canoplies of vines and trees ;
their dazzling white forming a charming con
trast with the dark green of the surrounding fo
liage.
But why attempt to picture such a scene ?
Suffice it to say, the grounds around Bentwold
were such as excellent taste, great wealth, and
a situation peculiarly favored by Nature could
produce.
The house itself was large, and imposing in
appearance. Entirely around it ran a colonnade,
the columns of which were wreathed and fes
tooned all around with vines bearing sweet
scented flowers. The roof of this colonnade
was continuous with that of the house, thus
being above the windows, even of the last story,
completely shading them, and the numerous lit
tle balconies which were hung out at various
points.
The windows were cut down to the floor, and
capable of being thrown open from top to bot
tom, ass ording free ingress to the glorious breezes
which swept through the magnificent groves
around the house, and wafted sweet odors into
the rooms.
In building this house, the object had been
to make it as comfortable and pleasant, and at
the same time as handsome as could bo, consis
tently with the two first named objects ; and,
although it may have had, what pedantic archi
tects would term architectural defects, it was
appropriate to the climate in which it was sit
uated, and for that reason, in good taste.
Around tho sides, and in the rear of tho
building, the same taste had been displayed ;
and the most gorgeous flowers combined with
the most beautiful shrubbery, to afford a contin
ual feast to the eye ; while, standing in the col-
onnade, one could see, afar off, the snow white
beach, and the bright and bounding water, with
the white-crested waves chasing each other and
dashing upon the sandy shore.
Here, too, the breeze came fresh and strong,
cooling the blood, fanning the temples, and wan
toning with the hair —sighing through the or
ange trees, and scattering their blossoms in at
the doors and windows of Bentwold.
It was an hour to sunset, and a group, consist
ing of Mr. Bentlv, Mrs. Bently, and their three
handsome children, was collected at the rear of
the house, where they could catch the sea
breeze, and be sheltered from the burning rays
which had been pouring down all day.
[to be continued.]
—■——m
•[Written for the Field and Fireside.]
AURORA BOREALIS.
The following description of this beautiful ce
lestial phenomenon, which has recently, by its
extraordinary brilliancy, been astonishing and
delighting beholders throughout our whole con
tinent, and even as far South as Cuba, is from
the pen of a lady of our city, who was so fortu
nate as to be, at that time, on a visit to the
White Mountains of New Hampshire. The
public is already familiar with the productions
of her pen, and highly appreciates them. Acci"
dent alone has prevented our receiving this con
tribution, weeks ago.
“On the evening of the 28th of August, the
heavens presented a magnificent panorama of
dissolving views, of such surpassing beauty and
brilliancy, that the most gifted artist would ever
strive in vain to convey with his pencil an ade
quate idea of the scene. The sun had set in the
golden glory of an autumnal sky, casting a rich
purple glow over the summit of each hoary
mountain, and leaving the dark forests of pine
and fir, gioomy in the grandeur of approaching
twilight. Only one light cloud, floating upward,
reflected so brightly the last gilded ray, that it
seemed like the recording angel, returning with
the deeds of the departing day ere the pearly
gates had closed, “ for there is no night there”!
Scarcely had the scene faded into twilight,
before a black arch appears in the east, and the
hand of Deity soon causes “ light to spring out
of the darkness.” So quickly does a rich red
glow of mist overspread the tranquil sky, that
we could but think of the sudden conflagration
of some sister world, of which our planet was
for a moment to be a witnesg.
But while wo gaze, Cassiopeia, with queenly
dignity, steps forth from the majestic veil of rosy
light, followed by her starry train. Then di
rectly in the North, emerges from the deep ob
scurity the constellation of Ursa Major: but its
bright stars are paled by the glorious apparition
all around. It was almost a relief to weleomo
that polar star, for it is in the visible heavens,
an emblem of the Star of Bethlehem, to the eye
of faith; and while bewildered we could exclaim,
“ When I consider the heavens, the work of thy
fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast
ordained, what is man, that thou art mindful of
him, or the son of man, that thou visitest him,”
the tumult subsides into the glorious assurance
to which the listening ear of childhood may
give heed, “My Father made them all 1”
Now from east to west appear majestic pillars
of light, and across them rainbow shapes of va
ried hue play in rapid succession, and no longer
did we marvel how the “pillar of fire by night,”
guided the wandering Israelite in the desert.
Pilgrims of another age, we stood before them
now, and were eye-witnesses of the glory; but
we lay the pen aside, feeling that we could
never do justice to the remembrance of that
scene. At six o’clock the thermometer stood at
60°, and it fell rapidly until at ten it stood at
48°. The next morning there was a heavy
frost, and the weather has continued remarkably
cool. On Friday night our chambers were again
lighted at midnight by the red glare of the Au
rora Borealis, and already the death of the sum
mer flowers, and the rustling tread of autumn,
heard upon the green turf, even by the clear
brook Side, with the crimson branch of the
maple, are silent monitors to point us to our
1 Southern fields and distant firesides.’ ”
Advice to young Ladies. —In his excellent
address to the graduating class of St. Mary’s
Hall, at Burlington, last month, Bishop Doane
spoke as follows:
“ The times are out of joint. Corruption stalks
in our high places. Licentiousness has, well
nigh, lost its shame. Infidelity is bold and brazen
faced. For these things your sex is greatly
answerable. Women are not true to themselves.
They wink at vice. They mako a compromise
with worldliness. They tolerate irreligion. And
they are victims of their own unfaithfulness. The
stronger sex look up, in best things, to the weak
er. They have all had mothers. They have all
had sisters. If women were but true to God,
true to themselves, they would have strength
from Him to hold the world in check. No
woman ever fell but by her own consent. As
at the first, woman is the tempter. There is .
no man, that has not passed into a brute, to do
as tigers do, that can resist the matchless
majesty of a resolved woman. And stronger
than all law, stronger than anything but God,
would be the power of women to put down rude
ness, and lay the bridlo upon license. But
women are slaves to dress. Women are willing
to be flattered. Women are careless of their
companionship. Woman are unscrupulous in
their amusements. Young women set up for
themselves. They look upon their parents as,
old fashioned. They are impatient of domestic
restraints. They are averse to domestic ooenr
pations. They vote their homes a bore. They
congregate away from its control. They im
dulge in unreasonable hours, to meet the other
sex more than half way. They permit the ap
proaches of familiarity. They tempt tho hidden
devil of their nature. They forget their Bibles..
They neglect their prayer books. They are
women of fashion. They are women of the
world. What else they are, is rather shaped
by opportunity than by themselves. In this
way, the female atmosphere is stripped of its.
freshness and its fragrace. The woman, is noi
longer what she was made ta.be —‘a help
meet ’ for the man. And man ceases to be what
God designed him to be—her partner, her prop,
and her protector.
—MB - -*»♦• • »l
Education in the United States. —The
number of colleges in this country is 122; theo
logical seminaries, 48; law schools, 17 ; medical
schools, 40. The number of students in these
institutions respectively, is: in college, 14,573;
law, 1.117; theological, 1,379; medical, 4,322.
The professors number : in colleges, 1,062; in
law schools, 38; medical, 208; theological, 137.
Total of professors; 1,606; of studeutSr 21,791.
—[American Almanac;.