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TONE OF JOY.

(See Tone Drill No. 128.) [The tone of Joy manifests brightness and happiness. It has less abandon than Gayety, being sweeter and richer.]

The Enjoyments of Spring.

T. DUNCAN.

This is truly the glad season of the year. Wherever we turn our eyes, Nature wears a smile of joy, as if, freed from the storms and the cold of winter, she revelled in the well enhanced luxury of spring. The lengthening day, the increasing warmth of the air, and the gradually deepening green of the awakened earth, excite in every breast a lively sense of gratitude, and pleasingly affect the imagination. A walk among the woods or fields, in a calm spring day, when the trees are bursting forth into beauty, and all the land is echoing with song, may well soothe the stormiest passions, and inspire that ‘vernal delight, which is able to drive away all sadness but despair.' The mind sympathizes with the joy of inanimate Nature, and rejoices to behold the reviving beauty of the earth, as if itself had escaped from a period of gloom, to bask in the sunshine of hope and enjoyment.

There is something in the flowery sweetness and genial warmth of spring that kindles in the rudest bosom feelings of gratitude and pleasure. The contrast to the cold and desolation of winter is so striking and agreeable, that every heart, unless it be hardened by the direst ignorance and crime, is melted to love and pious emotion; and breathings of deepfelt adoration escape from the most untutored lips. The carols of the ploughman, as he traverses the field, the livelong day, and turns up the fresh soil, seem to bespeak a lightsome heart, and evince the joyousness of labor. The shepherd, as he sits upon the hill-side and surveys his quiet flock with its sportive companies of lambs,—those sweetest emblems of innocent mirth,-feels a joy and calm satisfaction, that is heightened by the recollection of the vanished snowstorms of recent winter, and of all the anxieties and toils attending his peculiar charge.

Even the hard-working mechanic of the village or town, shares the general gladness of the season. As he strolls in sweet relaxation into the glittering fields, or along the blossoming hedgerows and lanes, haply supporting with his hand the tottering footsteps of his child, or carrying the tender infant in his arms, he breathes the freshning air, treads the reviving turf beneath his feet, and inhales the first faint perfumes, and listens to the first melodies of the year, with an enjoyment that his untaught powers of expression cannot describe.

Voice of Spring.

FELICIA HEMANS.

I

come, I come! ye have called me long,
I come o’er the mountains with light and song;
Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet's birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.

I have passed o'er the hills of the stormy north,
And the larch has hung all his tassels forth,
The fisher is out on the sunny sea,
And the reindeer bounds through the pasture free;
And the pine has a fringe of softer green,
And the moss looks bright where my step has been.

I have sent through the wood-paths a gentle sigh,
And called out each voice of the deep-blue sky,
From the night bird's lay through the starry time,

In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime,
To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes,
Where the dark fir-bough into verdure breaks.

From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain;
They are sweeping on to the silvery main,
They are flashing down from the mountain brows,
They are flinging spray on the forest boughs,
They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves,
And the earth resounds with the joy of waves.

may now be

Come forth, Oye children of gladness, come!
Where the violets lie

your

home.
Ye of the rose cheek and dew-bright eye,
And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly;
With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay,
Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay.

TONE OF GLOOM.

(See Tone Drill No. 136.) [The tone of Gloom proclaims the dismal. It is tinged with melancholy, and sometimes there is a mild resentment.]

November

THOMAS HOOD.

No sun—no moon!
No morn-no noon-
No dawn—no dusk-no proper time of day-
No sky--no earthly view-
No distance looking blue-
No road-no street--no “t'other side the way”-
No end to any Row-
No indications where the Crescents go-

No top to any steeple
No recognitions of familiar people
No courtesies for showing 'em-
No knowing 'em!
No traveling at all-no locomotion-
No inkling of the way—no notion-
“No go”—by land or ocean-

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds-
November.

TONE OF ASPIRATION.

(See Tonc Drill No. 84.) [As a rule the tone of aspiration suggests noble desire. It is allied to Ambition, Admiration, and is almost synonymous

with Emulation.]

American Aspiration.

K. M. HUNTER.

I can conceive of nothing of which it is possible for luman effort to obtain, greater than the destiny which we may reasonably hope to fulfill. If war has its dreams, dazzling in splendid pageantry, peace also has its visions of a more enduring form, of a higher and purer beauty. To solve by practical demonstration the grand problem of increasing social power consistent with personal freedom-to increase the efficiency of the human agent by enlarging individual liberty-to triumph over, not only the physical, but more difficult still, the moral difficulties which lie in the path of a man's progress, and to adorn that path with all that is rare and useful in art, and whatever is highest in civilization, are, in my opinion, the noblest achievements of which a nation is capable These are the ends to which our ambition should be directed.

If we reverse the old idea of the Deity who presides over our boundaries, let us see so far as we are concerned, that his movements are consistent with the peace of the world. The sword may be the occasional, but it is not the familiar weapon of our god Terminus. The axe and the hoe are his more appropriate emblems. Let him turn aside from the habitations of civilized man, his path is toward the wilderness, through whose silent solitudes, for more than two centuries, he has been rapidly and triumphantly advancing. Let him plunge still deeper into the forest, as the natural gravitation of the tide of population impels him onward. His progress in that direction is one of unmixed beneficence to the human race. The earth smiles beneath his feet, and a new creation arises as if by enchantment at his touch.

Household fires illuminate his line of march, and newborn lights, strange visitants to the night of primeval solitude, kindle on domestic altars erected to all the peaceful virtues and kindly affections which consecrate a hearth and endear a home. Victorious industry sacks the forest and mines the quarry, for materials for its stately cities, or spans the streams and saps the mountain to open the way for the advance of civilization still deeper into the pathless forest and neglected wild. The light of human thought pours in winged streams from sea to sea, and the lingering 'nomad may have but a moment's pause, to behold the flying car which comes to invade the haunts so long secured to savage life. These are the aspirations worthy of our name and race, and it is for the American people to decide whether a taste for peace or the habits of war are most consistent with such hopes. I trust that they may be guided by wisdom in their choice.

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