all men, at all times, and in all places. She is when we hear inwardly, sound when we hear outwardly. Creation has not displaced her, but is her visible framework and foil. All sounds are her servants, and purveyors, proclaiming not only that their mistress is, but is a rare mistress, and earnestly to be sought after. They are so far akin to Silence that they are but bubbles on her surface, which straightway burst, an evidence of the strength and prolificness of the under-current; a faint utterance of Silence, and then only agreeable to our auditory nerves when they contrast themselves with and relieve the former. In proportion as they do this, and are heighteners and intensifiers of the Silence, they are harmony and purest melody. Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment; that background which the painter may not daub, be he master or bungler, and which, however awkward a figure we may have made in the foreground, remains ever our inviolable asylum, where no indignity can assail, no personality disturb us. The orator puts off his individuality, and is then most eloquent when most silent. He lis tens while he speaks, and is a hearer along with his audience. Who has not hearkened to her infinite din? She is Truth's speaking-trumpet, the sole oracle, the true Delphi and Dodona, which kings and courtiers would do well to consult, nor will they be balked by an ambiguous answer. For through her all revelations have been made, and just in proportion as men have consulted her oracle within, they have obtained a clear insight, and their age has been marked as an enlightened one. But as often as they have gone gadding abroad to a strange Delphi and her mad priestess, their age has been dark and leaden. Such were garrulous and noisy eras, which no longer yield any sound, but the Grecian or silent and melodious era is ever sounding and resounding in the ears of men. A good book is the plectrum with which our else silent lyres are struck. We not unfrequently refer the interest which belongs to our own unwritten sequel to the written and comparatively lifeless body of the work. Of all books this sequel is the most indispensable part. It should be the author's aim to say once and emphatically, "He said," pn. This is the most the bookmaker can attain to. If he make his volume a mole whereon the waves of Silence may break, it is well. It were vain for me to endeavor to interpret the Silence. She cannot be done into English. For six thousand years men have translated her with what fidelity belonged to each, and still she is little better than a sealed book. A man may run on confidently for a time, thinking he has her under his thumb, and shall one day exhaust her, but he too must at last be silent, and men remark only how brave a beginning he made; for when he at length dives into her, so vast is the disproportion of the told to the untold that the former will seem but the bubble on the surface where he disappeared. Nevertheless, we will go on, like those Chinese cliff swallows, feathering our nests with the froth which may one day be bread of life to such as dwell by the seashore. We had made about fifty miles this day with sail and oar, and now, far in the evening, our boat was grating against the bulrushes of its native port, and its keel recognized the Concord mud, where some semblance of its outline was still preserved in the flattened flags which had scarce yet erected themselves since our departure; and we leaped gladly on shore, drawing it up, and fastening it to the wild apple-tree, whose stem still bore the mark which its chain had worn in the chafing of the spring freshets. TABLE OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS USED IN "A WEEK ON THE CONCORD AND MERRIMACK RIVERS.” PAGE 2. Fluminaque obliquis cinxit declivia ripis (He confined the rivers). - OVID. 8. Beneath low hills, in the broad interval. — EMERSON. 12. And thou Simois, that as an arrowe, clere. 66 Sure there are poets which did never dream. 15. Come, come, my lovely fair, and let us try. - FRANCIS QUARLES. 17. Were it the will of Heaven, an osier bough. - PINDAR, tr. by Emerson. 18. By the rude bridge that arched the flood. renning aie downward to the sea. 26. 43. - a beggar on the way. That bold adopts each house he views, his own. 53. The river calmly flows.-W. E. CHANNING. 56. There is an inward voice that in the stream.-W. E. CHANNING. 57. Sweet falls the summer air.-W. E. CHANNING. 60. A man that looks on glass. 63. Bedford, most noble Bedford. GEORGE HERBERT. 70. Some nation yet shut in. — WILLIAM HABINGTON. 71. And Iadahel, as saith the boke. - JOHN GOWER. 66 Jason first sayled, in story it is tolde. JOHN LYDGATE. 79. The seventh is a holy day. - HESIOD. 85. Where is this love become in later age.-FRANCIS QUARLES. 66 The world's a popular disease, that reigns. 85. 109. - all the world's a stage. SHAKESPEARE. Doth grow the greater still, the further downe. 115. So silent is the cessile air. 116. Jam læto turgent in palmite gemmæ. — VIRGIL. 66 Strata jacent passim sua quæque sub arbore poma. —VIR GIL. 118. As from the clouds appears the full moon. 66 While it was dawn, and sacred day was advancing.— 119. They, thinking great things, upon the neutral ground of war.- HOMER. 66 Went down the Idæan mountains to far Olympus. — 120. For there are very many. — HOMER. 46 Then rose up to them sweet-worded Nestor, the shrill orator of the Pylians.- HOMER. 121. Homer is gone; and where is Jove? and where. 123. You grov'ling worldlings, you whose wisdom trades. 124. Merchants, arise. - FRANCIS QUARLES. 125. To Athens gowned he goes, and from that school. FRANCIS QUARLES. 66 127. 66 What I have learned is mine; I've had my thought. ask for that which is our whole life's light. Let us set so just.—WILLIAM HABINGTON. 128. Olympian bards who sung. - EMERSON. lips of cunning fell. - EMERSON. 129. 130. That 't is not in the power of kings to raise. — SAMUEL DANIEL. 66 66 And that the utmost powers of English rhyme. -SAM- And who in time knows whither we may vent. -SAMUEL DANIEL. 131. How many thousands never heard the name. — SAMUEL DANIEL. 143. Make bandog thy scout watch to bark at a thief. 151. I thynke for to touche also. 66 JOHN GOWER. The hye sheryfe of Notynghame.- ROBIN HOOD BAL LADS. |