144 MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES. leveled to the dust. But these old mountains stand, And watch the river sweeping to the main. Thy cliffs and waters-when with shivering breath But, gentle reader, you may be weary with looking on that mountain scenery. Let us, then, turn to another part of the landscape. Here opens a view toward the sunny south. At our feet is spread out a tranquil lake. Its bright waters reflect the light, like a mirror of silver. Its shores are fringed with evergreens. The pine, the fir, the cedar, and the larch are growing there together, giving to the scene a beauteous variety, such as art may in vain hope to imitate. From the foot of the lake issues a small stream, which meanders through a quiet meadow, and then empties its clear waters into another lake. Beyond you may see a lovely vale, stretching away between the hills, until it spreads out into a broad plain. On that plain the light falls mellow and soft. The blue tinge of distance is diffused over the whole scene. It would seem that there might be the "happy land where care is unknown." A thousand times have I looked on that lovely valley, and yielding up my reason to my fancy, imagined it some fairy land, some region of the blest, some paradise of flowery beauty, where the winds blow not, the storms never come, where the sunlight of spring always shines, and sorrow is unknown. But, fair reader, we must bid adieu to this scene of beauty. On this landscape we may look no more. The mountain, the vale, the lake, the stream, the garden, the greenwood, the neat village, with its white dwellings, the church, with its gothic spires, and the cottage on the hill-side, with its shrubbery and flowers, we must leave for ever. Yet beauty exists everywhere. Our western homes may not afford us a distant prospect. The surface of our country is too level for any extended views. We have no mountains, and few lakes. But so fertile, and so easy of culture is our soil, so genial our climate, and so easy is it to cultivate side by an unsightly mass of bricks and mortar, with scarcely room on your premises to plant a tree or a shrub. I like not a city residence. It is said that God made the country, and man the town; and for my part I like the works of God much the best. Instead of bricks and mortar, and lumber, I would look on the green woods, and the verdant pastures, and the waving corn fields. Instead of thumping drays, rattling carriages, and the hum-drum of discordant voices, I would listen to the music of the waterfall, and the song of the birds. Instead of paved streets, and crowded sidewalks, I would ramble along the cow-path over the pastures, and along the winding brook in the wild woods. If I must do business in the city, still let me have a quiet little home in some retired, suburban spot, where my children may have a little play-ground in the open air, and where I may retire at evening to commune with nature. I would hope, then, dear reader, for your own sake, that your home is in the quiet suburbs of some fine town, or else in the open country, and that you have some acre or two at least around your house, sufficient to furnish you your own light and air, without having to use over again that which some neighbor has already used before you, and to afford space for a garden, orchard, and shrubbery yard. A very little labor, such as any lady of only tolerable health may easily accomplish, will, in a few years, make such a spot a very paradise. But you need not perform in person all the manual labor. Lay out your grounds according to your own taste. It needs the refined and delicate taste of woman to lay out a garden, or a flower-bed. Select the places where you will set your trec, or your shrub, or your rose-bush. Then your brother, or your son, or at least some friend of yours of the manly race, will break the ground for you, and prepare the soil for planting. If, in removing a tree or shrub, you would have it live and grow, let it be taken up carefully, with as many of its fine roots as possible; then let its roots be dipped in a vessel of earth and water mixed to the consistency of paste, and after this, plant it carefully in the earth, and it will grow right on, without ever seeming to know that it has undergone transplanting. You may easily obtain a great variety of annual, biennial, and perennial flowers, which will require only the attention of a few hours each week to furnish you an inexhaustible supply of flowers through the whole season. Reader, are there children in your family? Have you little sons and little daughters, or little brothers and little sisters? If you would have them interfruits, shrubbery, and flowers, that we may, with{esting in mind and in body, accustom them early to little expense, and no great labor, render our homes { cultivate the love of the beautiful in nature. Take so beautiful, that we may have no need of depend-them out at morning and at evening, and let them ing on our neighbors for a beautiful prospect. I would hope, gentle reader, that your home is not in the crowded city, where you are hemmed in on every see the glories of the season. For their sake, make your home beautiful. Embower it with shrubbery, crown it with flowers, and ornament it with shade trees. MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES. If your home be pleasant, your children will be contented with it, and will not be inclined to go abroad. Nothing can be more injurious to the moral habits of children, than the practice of running about the neighborhood and the town for recreation and amusement. Let them have something at home to interest them, and it will be easy to keep them there. A home made pleasant by fruits and flowers, will promote the cheerfulness of children. Cheerfulness is a virtue, and it should be cultivated by ourselves, and encouraged in our children. All nature is cheerful. The plants put on their beauteous colors, such as Solomon in all his glory could not boast. The insects are so happy they hardly know what to do with themselves. The birds sing a merry tune, all except the moping owl. Of all beings man should certainly be the last to be sad and melancholy. Most of all should the good be cheerful. If any should be sad, let it be the bad; for they have reason for it; but the good should promote cheerfulness in themselves, and especially in the little children intrusted by Providence to their care. Home made pleasant by cultivated grounds promotes the health of children. Their nature requires exercise in the open air. Confine them to close rooms, restrain them in their play, and you do them a lasting injury. Entice them out into the garden, the orchard, the ornamented yard-accustom them to run about the garden walks, and to perform such labor as may be suited to their little hands, and you will develop a healthy body and a sound mind. 145 idea of the supreme Being, and a conception of the most interesting of his attributes, take him with you into the garden, and show him the flowers, and the marks of contrivance and design they exhibit. We have another inducement to render, so far as possible, the home of our children pleasant to them. We thereby furnish them an inexhaustible fund of delightful associations in their after life. Home, "be it ever so homely," is still the sweetest word in the English language. When, however, there is associated with that word the idea of good taste and beauty, it has an inexpressible charm, that binds the heart as by a spell, for all future time. I would not lose the word from our language-I would not lose the memory of it from my heart, for the wealth" of Ormus or of Ind." Though from the home of my childhood my friends are all gone, though the stran{ger's foot is on the threshold, and I hear no familiar voice, and see no familiar face within the halls, yet my heart often instinctively turns to the spot. reveries by day, and my dreams by night carry me back to the play-ground of my childhood's sunny days. Dear to my heart is the little brook that flowed by the door, the lone old apple tree that grew in the field, and even the rough granite rock that lay poised on the hill-side. While thus memory points me back to youth, a faculty of mind, for which we have no name in our language, points me on to age, and I see my own children, then grown to maturity, and scattered over the prairies of the west, turning back their thoughts to the little white cottage, the spring in the locust grove, the thicket of evergreens, the trellis of vines, and the bower of roses. My Familiarity with the beauties of nature has much effect in refining the taste, and developing the mind. A child brought up amidst shrubbery and flowers cannot well be coarse in manners, uncultivated in mind, and deficient in taste. The superiority of the ancient Greeks and Italians over other people, was greatly owing to the influence of nature over them. Their country was beautiful, their skies serene, their climate mild. By nature they were initiated into the love of the beautiful, and thus were led to excel in literature and in art. Their beautiful mythology, stripped of its poetic drapery, was but a deification of the powers of nature. It is true their religious system was defective. They worshiped the creature more than the Creator. They failed to "look through nature up to nature's God." This defect in their religious notions is not to be charged on their enthusiastic love of nature. It was the necessary consequence of the absence of the Bible. To us, who have the Bible, nature appears not God himself, as to them, but the agent by which God works. The works of nature illustrate the wisdom and the good-month, we may yet have a pleasant acquaintance. ness of the Deity. The argument for the existence, the wisdom, and the benevolence of God, drawn from the proofs of contrivance in nature, may be made perfectly intelligible to the mere child, and will have more effect on him than a thousand dry moral precepts. Then, if you would give your child an VOL. VI.-19 Say not, kind reader, that we have not time to attend to matters of taste, and to cultivate ornamental trees, and shrubbery, and flowers. We certainly should take time to educate our children, to improve their taste, and to make them healthy, cheerful, and happy. If we furnish our child with one new idea, or good sentiment, or one source of pleasant associations of thought in the future, we bestow on him a benefit which money cannot buy. And we may redeem much, very much time, from ceremonious visiting, and useless conversation. Well, dear reader, we must part for the present. Our talk has already occupied the Repository as long as can be afforded. It may also appear to some rather small talk. But we need variety in the columns of the Repository. I told you in the beginning I had no story to tell you, no great questions to discuss, and no new ideas to develop. But if you will give me a kind and an attentive hearing once a THERE should be no superfine distinctions in morality. The person who talks much about "white lies," is probably not too good to circulate "black ones." 146 THE EXILE. "And such shall be my day Of life, unfriended, cold, and dead; And die alone-and die alone." THE EXILE. nity in his appearance; and the flashings of his full, black eye, to me betokened an intellect of more than ordinary capacity. Soon after the sun had set, the violent rocking of the vessel compelled most of our passengers to take to their berths. We were left almost alone. My curiosity was excited, and I made some remark to him, by way of introduction, on the wild appearance of the ocean, to which he replied, saying, that it reminded him of the fickle, changing passions of a nation when unrestrained. I found him even superior to my expectations-educated, polished, and dignified; and several hours were passed in pleasing conversation. Travelers easily make ac ONE calm, beautiful evening, in the beginning of summer, I was sitting beneath the shade of some China trees in the public walk before Natchez. The sun, just dipping in the western horizon, cast its rich mellow light over the landscape, gilding every leafquaintances, to pass away the dreary hours of conand flower of the gardens, and every ripple on the surface of the great "father of waters." Rich fields and dark green forests were seen in every direction, with their various hamlets, presenting an agreeable and pleasing contrast. The waters of a distant lake were rendered dazzling by the reflection of the sun's rays, giving a force and brilliancy to the whole scene. Cheerful groups of children filled the avenues, all life and animation, from the natural buoyancy of youth. Ardent and confiding, they seemed to think the world all bright and beautiful-a world of sweet flowers, of ease, and pleasures, as it appeared to be. How few, I thought, will ever realize the one hundredth part of the pleasures they anticipate, and how many will be buffeted by contrary winds on life's stormy ocean, bringing a blight over all their long cherished hopes and expectations! How often do we see the youthful aspirant, after toiling and struggling for awhile, at last overcome by some chilling wave of disappointment, and borne down by its weight! My thoughts led me back to those halcyon days when man, in unsullied purity, could enjoy all these scenes without the sigh arising from unsatisfied desires and blighted hopes; and I looked forward to that period when, having put off this mortal coil, the soul shall rest for ever, free from all care or trouble. These thoughts were awakened by an account of the trials and disappointments of a Polish baron, and an exile, whose remains I had just followed to their last resting place. Sometime since I left C. for Charleston, by way of Philadelphia, where I embarked. As we left the bay, I took a seat on the deck to watch the shore as it gradually disappeared from sight. The sun was just setting, and casting over the watery waste that softened glow of which no one who has not been at sea can have any idea. I was a stranger to all on board, and, consequently, my emotions at that moment were confined to my own bosom. But as I cast my eyes around on the passengers, who were gazing on the same scene with me, and endeavored to read in their countenances the different feelings excited by it, my attention was arrested by the deep expression in the face of one young man standing aloof from all the others. There was a manly dig finement; but rarely are these lasting. The vessel reaches her port; and as each one goes to his separate occupations, all are forgotten, save that, now and then, in some leisure hour, the memory will steal back, and bring up some pleasant hour, some agreeable fellow-passenger, and the loud laugh as it was echoed from the dark waves, caused by the witty narrations of some jolly-hearted tar, on a bright moonlight night, with the thousand pleasant associations which cluster around such scenes. But the friendship we formed was not of this character. Though of only a few days, it was as lasting as it was true. It is true there were different hopes and desires leading us on; yet the similarity of thought and feeling seemed to have laid the groundwork. His mind was one of those master spirits which seem to take in creation at a grasp. I have never seen his superior-hardly his equal. But a heartless form of religion had brought him to disbelieve in the great and essential doctrines of the Christian's faith: in other words, he was what is commonly termed a French philosopher. He had drunk deep at those poisonous fountains of infidelity which for ages have blighted the hopes of the world, and have even found their way within the portals of the Church. As he looked upon the existing Church of his own land-a beautiful form, composed of exciting and pompous ceremonies he was captivated, and gave full credence to all its doctrines. But as he grew older, his inquiring mind sought something farther than outward show he sought in vain for that vitality upon which all religion must be based. The body, indeed, was fair and beautiful to the external gaze, but without that life-giving principle which alone can supply the cravings of an immortal mind. It is not surprising, under these circumstances, and without guidance and advice, he should conceive a disgust for the Church, and, thinking that all religion was alike— grounded and supported on the superstition and credulity of its followers-receive those poisoned sentiments which were scattered so widely over all Europe. Often did I try to point him to that true and living way where the mind may safely rest amid all the vicissitudes of life. And as I reasoned with him on the truth of the Bible, and the Christian's THE EXILE. hope, I saw that his mind was still unsettled, having a kind of apprehension that these things may, after all, be so, which led me to hope that his inquiring mind, at some future time, would search out that truth which makes us free-the children of God. At my request, he related to me his early historythe trials and changes through which he had passed, and by which, as I afterward found, the great Head of the Church was bringing him to those fountains of living water, at which we may drink and never thirst. 147 in this country. I, however, turned my steps toward France, where I remained several years. From the losses I sustained in Italy, my means of support became very limited, and I then laid a plan, for the completion of which I am now on my way to Savan{nah. America has ever kindly opened her doors to the unbefriended exile; so I resolved to come to this country and engage in the study of the law. I have letters of introduction to several individuals in Savannah, through whose influence I hope to succeed." At Charleston we separated: he left for his adopted to C., not, however, without having exacted a promise to write often. I received two letters, to both of which I replied. Nearly a year passed, and I heard nothing from him. I then wrote to a friend in Savannah to make inquiries concerning him. He did so; but all the information he gathered was, that he had left Savannah, but where he had gone no one knew, as he had lived almost entirely to himself. "As you supposed," he said, "I am a foreigner-home, and I, after the stay of a few days, returned a native of Poland. My father, who was from one of the most ancient families of that kingdom, and a baron in high favor at the Polish court, was ever distinguished for his strong opposition to Russian usurpation; and his immense wealth giving him great influence over the minds of our people, he was dreaded by the Russians, who continually sought some means for his degradation. Unfortunately, an opportunity offered, which was readily seized. My father, aware of the constant intrigues at the court for his destruction, determined to make one last desperate effort to rescue his unfortunate country from the power of a foreign despot. He leagued with many of the barons who were of the same mind, and a plan was formed for the general rising of the people, which was carried into execution as far as possible. We were unsuccessful, as you well know. My father was taken, condemned, and executed, and his estates confiscated. This was not all: his family, consisting then only of my sister and myself, were doomed to perpetual exile-never, under pain of death, again to see that land, though enslaved, which we loved to call our own. "The property we hastily collected was sufficient to support us for several years in ease, and we retreated to Italy. There once more we found a home, with kind and sympathizing friends. Those were hours of pleasure we spent in the midst of our new friends-the calm, delightful though deceptive, which always precedes a storm. I could consent to forsake home and native land without even dropping a tear; but to lay in the dreary grave my only earthly relative-my sister-the companion of exile-and such a sister, was more than I could endure. Nothing could I find to support me under this trial; and for many days no one entertained any hope for my life. But Fate seems ever to have marked me a victim of her caprices, and she spared my life, to torment me still farther. Early in the spring, a short time after I received this letter, having occasion to visit the south, I stopped at Natchez; and as soon as my arrangements were made at the hotel, strolled out on the public walk to enjoy the soft, cool evening air, and view the surrounding country from so elevated a situation. Always, from my infantile days, nature was my favorite study, and its loneliest but lovely spots, I hunted out for my places of retreat. The little brook, with its flower-decked banks, tumbling over gold and ruby-colored pebbles, overhung by lofty, thickly set trees, converting full noon into the shades of evening-fairy forms, by which I supposed the little stream to be surrounded and protected, because I loved it-these and a thousand other natural objects employed my thought and pen. The present scenery brought all these early associations to mind. thought of my far-off native shore, my friends, and the many pleasant scenes of a southern climate, when I was accosted by a servant, his hat in one hand, and a note in the other, with— "Master, are you Mr. I "Yes," I replied, awaking from the reverie into which I had fallen, "that is my name; but what do you want?" "Here, master, is a note I've brought you from a gentleman at the hotel, who is very sick, and wants to see you." "Do you know who he is?" I asked, turning the note over and over in my hand, and gazing at the direction, as if there was no other way of finding out. 66 No, sir, only he's very sick, and a stranger here. He called me to him, and told me to take this note to you, if I could find you out; and just as I was leaving his room, I heard him say, 'Thank God! I shall see him yet once more." " "Within a year after the death of my sister, I was betrayed into an act of indiscretion, in writing tracts favoring a republican form of government, just at the period of the insurrection in Italy. The tracts were reprinted and circulated among the people. At the suppression of the insurrection, I was banished with many others, among whom, as you know, was As I half suspected, the note was from my old a descendant of Americus Vespucci, who took refuge } friend, the Baron. I hastily returned, and the grasp of his hand I can never forget. Through a porter he learned I was in Natchez, and, as he said, on seeing me, his last wish was now granted. He was so pale and emaciated, I could scarcely recognize him; and evidently in the last stages of a rapid decline. "I have been unfortunate," he remarked to me that evening, as I sat by his bedside, "in my temporal affairs, since we parted at Charleston; but I can now feel that all my trials and difficulties have been so many merciful providences crossing my path, in order to bring me into that living way where is true comfort and unfailing happiness." I looked at him for a moment with a feeling of doubt, whether he was uttering the genuine sentiments of his mind. I pressed his hand warmly, and said, "You have found philosophy would not support you in the hour of darkness, then, and sought at the right place, where true wisdom only can be obtained; and has he not been a glorious Savior to you?" "It was a long and painful lesson I had to learn. Through troubles of every character I have been brought to see the dawn of a brighter day, which will soon burst upon my view with all the brightness of heaven. "I left Savannah on the promises of a friend, who wrote from New Orleans, offering to take me into partnership in the practice of law at that place. I reached New Orleans just in time to smooth his dying pillow, and follow his remains to the grave. Thus I was again left friendless in a strange place. I thought surely I was born in an unlucky hour, as misfortune had ever been my lot. This world seemed cold and cheerless, and the next 'A dark, Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, "We were driven by stormy winds along the coast of Cuba, and on account of careless exposure during one of these storms, I took a very severe cold, of which, however, I then thought nothing. One Sabbath morning I was strolling through the streets of New Orleans, almost without knowing where I was going, thinking what plan to adopt in my future operations, when I found myself before one of the Methodist churches of that city. The Methodists had always been a most odious sect in my eyes, on account of the apparent want of discipline and regularity in their religious exercises; so I thought I would just step in to hear them shout, which would pass away a dreary hour, and afford cause for after amusement. As I entered, the preacher rose to announce the text, which was, 'Cast thy burden on the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.' A feeling of solemnity stole over me. My attention was arrested. I felt that I had a heavy load to bear, but knew of no relief. He spoke of the true Christian confiding all to Him who was willing and able to help all that come to him; that there were no burdens too heavy for him to relieve. He then spoke of the unbeliever, who had no such recourse in trouble, and of that glorious rest above prepared for all those who accept of a crucified Savior. I felt for the first time the power of Gospel truth, and found no rest except on the bosom of the Savior, who has supported me in all my sufferings. I feel that I must soon, very soon put off this earthly tabernacle; but I have no fear, for I know my Redeemer lives, and has prepared for me a glorious habitation, beyond the shades and darkness of this world, where pain and sickness shall never more be felt. "My cold had increased through inattention. My strength rapidly failed, so that my end seemed very near; but through medical aid I was partially restored. The physicians advised me to travel, by slow stages, on horseback, toward the north, as the weather was getting now warm. The fresh country air seemed to impart new life and strength, and I looked forward to a happy future. Not far from Natchez I was overtaken in a sudden shower of rain, so I was thoroughly drenched before reaching any house. My disease returned immediately with four-fold violence, and my physician has just told. me I am beyond the power of medicine. But I am even happy: I have no fear: I long to depart and give this poor, frail body to the worms." This account was given in a calm, clear voice; and as he spoke of his hope of a blissful immortal{ity, a heavenly smile lit up his pale countenance. O, how sweet were those hours I spent with him in his dying chamber! It was the house of Godthe gate of heaven. The glories of the upper world seemed opening to his vision. It is true, sometimes a doubt would for awhile disturb his peace of mind, but that would soon pass away; and as the natural sun appears brighter and more beautiful after breaking through a stormy cloud, so did his hope increase and strengthen after every trial. As the summer approached, his strength rapidly failed; but his faith and hope grew brighter and clearer as the outer man decayed, till he sweetly slept on the bosom of his Savior. The venerable Mr. W., pastor of the Presbyterian Church, who has since gone to that resting place in glory of which he spoke so fervently, daily visited him, as did also the Methodist minister. Feeling his end near, he desired that the Lord's supper might be administered to him, which was done; and never have I witnessed that ceremonial so solemn. It was a calm, lovely morning in June. All nature seemed harmonious, leading the mind from nature up to nature's God. I had watched with him through the night, and was looking out of a window in his room at the sun beginning to tinge the gardens before me. The air was laden with sweets from the orange and lemon yards, and the |