ing, and benefiting mankind, long after he shall have ceased to tread his paternal fields. 5. Indeed, it is the nature of such occupations to lift the thought above mere worldliness. As the leaves of trees are said to absorb all noxious qualities of the air, and breathe fōrth a purer atmosphere, so it seems to me as if they drew from us all sordid and angry passions, and breathed forth peace and philănthropy. There is a serene and settled majesty in woodland scenery that enters into the soul, and dilates and elevates it, and fills it with noble inclinations. The ancient and hereditary groves, too, that embower this island, are most of them full of story. They are haunted by the recollections of the great spirits of past ages, who have sought for relaxation among them, from the tumult of arms, or the toils of state, or have wooed the muse beneath their shade. 6. It is becoming, then, for the high and generous spirits of an ancient nation to cherish these sacred groves that surround their ancestral mansions, and to perpetuate them to their descendants. Brought up, as I have been, in republican habits and principles, I can feel nothing of the serv'ile reverence for titled rank, merely because it is titled. But I trust I am neither churl nor bigot in my creed. I do see and feel how hereditary distinction, when it falls to the lot of a generous mind, may elevate that mind into true nobility. 7. It is one of the effects of hereditary rank, when it falls thus happily, that it multiplies the duties, and, as it were, extends the existence of the possessor. He does not feel himself a mere individual link in creation, responsible only for his own brief term of being. He carries back his existence in proud recollection, and he extends it forward in honorable anticipation. He lives with his ancestry, and he lives with his posterity. To both does he consider himself involved in deep responsibilities. As he has received much from those that have gone before, so he feels bound to transmit much to those who are to come after him. 8. His domestic undertakings seem to imply a longer existence than those of ordinary men. None are so apt to build and plant for future centuries, as noble-spirited men who have received their heritages from foregoing ages. I can easily imagine, therefore, the fondness and pride with which I have noticed English gentlemen, of generous temperaments, but high aristo cratic feelings, contem'plating those magnificent trees, which rise like towers and pyramids from the midst of their paternal lands. There is an affinity between all natures, animate and inanimate. The oak, in the pride and lustihood of its growth, seems to me to take its range with the lion and the eagle, and to assimilate, in the grandeur of its attributes, to heroic and intellectual man. 9. With its mighty pillar rising straight and direct toward heaven, bearing up its leafy honors from the impurities of earth, and supporting them ǎloft in free air and glōrious sunshine, it is an emblem of what a true nobleman should be; a refuge for the weak,-a shelter for the oppressed,—a defence for the defenceless; warding off from them the peltings of the storm, or the scorching rays of arbitrary power. He who is this, is an ornament and a blessing to his native land. He who is otherwise, ăbūses his eminent advantages ;-abuses the grandeur and prosperity which he has drawn from the bosom of his country. Should tempests arise, and he be laid prostrate by the storm, who would mourn over his fall? Should he be borne down by the oppressive hand of power, who would murmur at his fate?" WHY CUMBERETH HE THE GROUND ?" IRVING. III. 146. GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES. HE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned And spread the roof above them,-ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems,—in the darkling wood, 2. 3. And inaccessible Majesty. Ah! why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Offer one hymn; thrice happy, if it find Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns: thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun Here are seen No traces of man's pomp or pride; no silks The boast of our vain race to change the form That run along the summits of these trees In music; thou art in the cooler breath, Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. 4. Here is continual worship; nature, here, In the tranquillity that thou dost love, Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, Of all the good it does. 5. Thou hast not left Thyself without a witness, in these shades, Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace, In all the proud old world beyond the deep, Wears the green coronal of leaves, with which 6. My heart is awed within me, when I think 7. Lo! all grow old and die : but see, again, One of earth's charms Oh! there is not lost upon her bosom yet, After the flight of untold centuries, The freshness of her far beginning lies, Makes his own noŭrishment. For he came förth 8. There have been holy men, who hid themselves 9. Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived The passions, at thy plainer footsteps, shrink, O God! when thou The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods, BRYANT. IV. 147. LANDSCAPE BEAUTY. T is easy enough to understand how the sight of a picture or statue should affect us nearly in the same way as the sight of the original: nor is it much more difficult to conceive, how the sight of a cottage should give us something of the same feeling as the sight of a peasant's family; and the aspect of a town raise many of the same ideas as the appearance of a multitude |