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JUNE REMINISCENCES.

"Where are your books ?—that light bequeath'd From the Dublin University Magazine.

To beings else forlorn and blind!

Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
"A noise like of a hidden brook

From dead men to their kind.
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night

"You look round on your mother earth,
Singeih a quiel tune."

As if she for no purpose bore you;
Coleridge.

As if you were her first-born birth,

And none had lived before you ! What a glorious day it is! Talk not to me of Italian skies

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake, “ Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made tender,

When life was sweet, I knew not why,

To me my good friend Mathew spake, Till love falls asleep in such sameness of splen

And thus I made reply: dor:" But give me the broken clouds of a June day,

"The eye-it cannot choose but see;

We cannot bid the ear be still; sailing about in the blue depths of the sublime,

Our bodies feel, where'er they be, yet lovely sky. How deliciously clear and fresh

Against, or with our will. the air is, as one sits somewhat in the shade, looking forth upon those tall elms, whose tops Nor less I deem that there are powers are swayed backward and forward as the sum- Which of themselves our minds impress; mer breeze rises and falls. What strange, wild, That we can seed ibis mind of ours pleasing fancies come into the mind as one gazes

In a wise passiveness. upon these graceful undulations, not unaccom

"Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum panied with a gentle murmur of the leaves !

Of things for ever speaking, But is not this shocking idleness?

That noihing of itself will come, “Have you nothing better to do than loll like But we must still be seeking ? an idiot upon that garden chair in the portico, looking apparently at nothing, and sometimes

•Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,

Conversing as I may, closing your eyes as if you invited sleep? Is

I sit upon this old gray stone, this a way in which a rational being should

And dream my time away.' spend his time in this enlightened age-an age of unexampled activity-an age of steam-an age "The verse goes very smoothly and musicalof railroads—an age to make idleness ashamed ly,” said my aunt; “but I am not sure that I of itself—an age-consider the ant, thou slug- understand it." gard, consider her

“?Tis as easy as possible,” said I; "only you “My dear aunt, I do consider you very much, must consider it for a little Wordsworth's poand I do think you have the most comfortable etry is intended for persons who have some chairs, and such a charming view from your powers of reflection, and who exercise those portico."

powers; and therefore, my dear aunt, it is espe“ Come, come, my good friend, no playing cially fitted for you.” upon words; really it is a shame to see how "Well, then, if you will lend me the book some young people do dream their time away; “It is here:I have it in my pocket, and you shall and yet you are not so young neither. Did you read it at your leisure; but listen now to two or not tell me you had never had time to read Wil: three stanzas more, which, I am sure, you will berforce's Call to the Unconverted? I can tell understand readily:" you where you will find the book.” “ Thank you, my dear aunt; but may I ask,

“ Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: did you ever read Wordsworth?"

Come, hear the woodland linnet;

How sweet his music! On my life, “Wordsworth? No: but I have heard read

There's more of wisdom in it. something of his; he wrote poetry, did he not ?"

“Why, yes, my dear aunt, he certainly did. " And hark! how bright the ibrosile sings! There are some 'poets' by name and common He, too, is no mean preacher: report, of whom I should be cautious of saying

Come forih into the light of things; that they had written poetry; but you may draw

Let nature be your teacher. upon Wordsworth with certainty. He is as good “She has a world of ready wealth, as the bank."

Our minds and hearts to bless“Well, that may be; but what has that to do

Spontaneous wisdom, breathed by health, with the matter? I was speaking to you of ac. Truth breathed by cheerfulness. tivity and Wilberforce's book." “Now, my good aunt, sit you down beside me

"One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man, in that tranquil and placid mood which becomes

Of moral evil, and of good, you so well, though it pleases you to repeat the

Than all the sages can. praises of activity; sit you there, and inhale the odors of the honeysuckle, which twines so de- “Enough of science and of art; lightfully about that pillar, while I chant for you Close up the barren leaves: a stave. Yes, that is a very good listening atti

Come forih, and bring with you a heart

Thal walches and receives." tude, so now attend. "* Why, William, on that old gray stone,

- This, my dear aunt, is excellent: it is not a Thus for the length of half a day,

mere diversion of the spirits with a picture of Why, William, sit you thus alone,

pleasing natural scenes; but it is instruction of And dream your time away?

ihe best kind, save one, that can be given to ra

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tional and reflective beings. For next to the have thought of seeking for myself; but when study of divine things, whereby the mind is in- Plato was in the case, it was, as you will admit, formed by direct beams of light from the great a very different matter. The good lady, howsource of all intelligence and goodness, what so ever, applauded not, for by this time she was in excellent as to be taught, and not only taught, a profound and tranquil slumber. but led on and assisted, as it were, by the pleasing images and soothing cadences of poetry, to gather a theory of moral sentiments from nature I had almost forgotten my motto from Coleherself, and all her forms of loveliness and shows ridge, which would have been unpardonable. of beauty? I allow that you may gather a very Did ever four short lines bring the lovelinessagreeable and not altogether unphilosophical the tranquil, balmy, soothing loveliness of a theory of moral sentiments from the book of summer's night-a night far away from the noise Adam Smith on that very subject; but I own, and artificial glare of the town-more distinctly that for myself I can read 'no book of his without before the mind ? How beautiful is night! But some associations of disgust, arising from the use hear Southey upon this point. The man is gone which has been made by the dull, the heartless, down into the grave, but the voice of the poet and the covetous, of his treatise on the wealth of still rings through the earth with its rich and nations. Moreover, I do believe that, to confess stately ione. the truth, the man was little less an infidel than his friend Hume, and therefore shut out from “How beautiful is night! such knowledge and such sympathy as most as- A dewy freshness fills the silent air ; suredly are necessary fully to develop the theo- No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, ry of moral sentiments. But to return from this

Breaks the serene of heaven; digression, and 10 apply our minds more directly In full-orb’d glory, yonder moon divine to the instruction which the verses I have repeat

Rolls through the dark blue depths.

Beneath her steady ray, ed are so well calculated to convey, only ima- The desert-circle spreads gine, my dear aunt, how very many impressions Like the round ocean girdled with the sky! of beauty and of truth (or both in one, for truth How beautiful is night!" is beautiful, and beauty rejoices in the open sunshine and undisguisedness of truth)-only ima- This is a majestic picture—" Pure as the gine how abundantly such impressions might naked heavens, majestic, free!” How oft has be conveyed to the soul, if we only went forth one witnessed such upon the nights in June, properly prepared: that is to say, with awaken- vainly endeavoring however to give form of ed hearts, or, as in the words of the poet, with a expression to the impressions of pure and lofty heart that watches and receives. True it is that beauty which crowded upon one's heart, till the great mass of mankind—and wornankind, my even tears essayed to express what one's powdear aunt, must, I fear, be included-true it is, ers of language could not. This is the fate of that they pass through the world, and all the those who, having at least some glimpses of the things of utility, and beauty, and instructiveness vision and the faculty divine,” are yet wanting which nature provides, as if they were deaf and in “ the accomplishment of verse." But it was blind. They may see and hear with their cor- not of this I meant to speak; it was of Coleridge's poreal senses; but with respect to natural truth, exquisite allusion to the June night amid the as well as to divine, it may be affirmed of them, silence of the woods and the murmurings of the that seeing, they see not, and hearing, they do brook. You have read the “Ancient Mariner," not understand. They pass on without taking I suppose, from which the lines are taken. If notice. Their eyes may be very good, but they you have not, read it by all means at the first are aMicted (though they do not know it) with leisure opportunity. I do not mean any halfblindness of the heart. 'l'hey have not "a heart leisure snatch of time in the midst of disturbing that watches and receives;" and without that, avocations. You are not to read the Ancient they walk in vain through the sunshine and the Mariner as you would a smart article in a newsshade: the dews of the morning bring no refresh- paper. You are not to put it in your bag with ment to their souls, and the solemnities of night the hope of reading it at the Four Courts, bebring no elevation to their thoughts. This is the tween the cause of A. versus B., and that of E. truth with regard to them; but as I have said, versus F., neither C. nor D. being your client. they know it not, neither do they conceive for a No; this is truly a wild and wondrous tale, moment the depth of their loss. This is the enough to set your brains on end, if not your common condition of ignorance; for, as Plato hair, for a good hour or so at the least, and the says-(you have heard of Plato, my dear aunt, more you are alone in reading it the better. It though you cannot imagine how beautifully he is a thing to think upon I promise you. All the wrote, unless you learn Greek, which you may men of the ship die around the ancient mariner, do, for Cato learned Greek after he was sixty, but for his sin and his suffering he lives on. At and Mrs. Carter, though an Englishwoman, was last the dead that lie around begin to work the a very good Grecian)—for, as Plato says, “Nor ship like living men, though animated by other do the ignorant philosophize, for they desire not souls than had before belonged to those bodies:to become wise; for this is the evil ol'ignorance,

“ The helmsman steered, the ship moved on, that he who has neither intelligence nor virtue, Yet never a breeze up blew; nor delicacy of sentiment, imagines that he pos- The mariners all’gan work the ropes, sesses all those things sufficiently.” Here I Where they were wont to do ; looked up to my respectable relative for some They raised iheir limbs like liseless tools, applause--applause which I trust I should not We were a ghasily crew.

*

414
JUNE REMINISCENCES.

“ The body of my brother's son

glass of the undiluted “native" in these parts. Stood by me knee to knee;

There is nothing stronger than sherry or ten The body and I pulled at one rope,

year old ale in the house, if you were to die for But he said naught lo me.

it. But stay, there is I know a large bottle of "I fear thee, ancient mariner,'

castor-oil kept for the occasional physicing of the Be calm ihou wedding guest,

village. It shall be ordered up to your bed-room, 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,

and you may take a hearty pull if you find things Which to their corses came again,

going wrong. You may smile, but there is a But a troop of spirits blest.

grim look at the end of your smile, which satis.

fies me that you are aware of the wisdom of my " For when it dawn'd, they dropp'd their arms, And clustered round the mast ;

precaution. As for me, I take the fruit after the Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, powdered sugar to bring out the favour, and

manner of an epicure-just a slight spriokle of And from their bodies pass'd.

ihen a glass of fair water. In this way you im. " Around, around, flew each sweet sound, bibe the true fragrant flavor of the strawberry, Then darted to the sun;

but then you must proceed leisurely, and ponder Slowly the sounds came back again,

upon the taste. Ti you gobble up your strawNow mixed, now one by one.

berries, craunching them as a hungry donkey "And now 'twas like all instruments,

does thistle-tops, or as if you feared some one else Now like a lonely flute,

might get a second helping before you, you neAnd now it is an angel's song,

ver can have any correct notion either of the That makes the heavens be mute.

profound strength, or of the delicacy of senti

ment, which are bound up with the true and pro"It ceased; yet still the sails made on,

perly-tasted flavor of the strawberry,
A pleasant noise till noon;
A noise like of a hidden brook,
In the leafy month of June,

Ehen! fugaces labuntur anni. One's feelings That to the sleeping woods all night,

are not what they were; but still June is as Singeth a quiet tüne."

beautiful as ever, though we may regard it dilThe sleeping woods! I never heard them snore, different associations, and for so far its character

ferently. Our admiration is not less, but it has but I'll be sworn I have seen them in their dusky has changed. We observe more carefully than slumbers, and felt as it were the heavy breath in the days of old, because in all things we are ings of their sleep. And who that has ever

more calm. lived beyond the region of gas lamps and granite pavements, but must have paused now and -“ And so I dare to hope, then on a June night, in pensive admiration, to Though changed no doubt from what I was when listen to the voice of the brook, down hidden

first ever and ever its quiet tune as summer's quiet of the deep rivers and the lonely streams, among over-hanging trees, murmuring away for I came among these hills; when like a roe

I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides influence prevails ? Maiden of the downcast wherever nature led: more like a man eyes (for which thou art forgiven in considera. Flying from something that he dreads, than one tion of the rich fringes of thy silken eye-lashes Who sought the thing he loved. For nature iben thus more fully revealed), blush not that I call to (The coarser pleasure of my boyish days thy remembrance such a scene, or that thy heart and their glad animal movements all gone by) was softened by it to the confession of a trem-To me was all in all. I cannot paint bling emotion, that no pleading would have What I then was. The sounding cataract wrung from thee in the broad light of day. And Haunted me like a passion; the fall rock, dost thou remember how the low rich trembling their colors and their forms were then to me

The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, tones of thy voice harmonized with the scene, An appetite ; a feeling and a love, the hour, the distant murmur of the brook, even That had no need of a remoter charm, more than that of the nightingale itsell, whose By thought supplied, or any interest notes at intervals rang through the woods with Unborrowed from the eye. That time is past, flute-like sound ?

And all its aching joys are now no more, But who is that that calls, and our names too? And all its dizzy raptures. Not for ibis Listen! Thomas, to tell us that the strawber- Faint I, por mourn, nor murmur; other gists ries and cream are mixed, and that we are wait-Have followed, for such loss, I would believe. ed for. Delighttul repast--yet have a care, o Abundant recompense. For I have learned man, that eatest! Think you that you have pos- of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes

To look on nature, not as in the hour sessed yourself of the stomachs of one calf and The still sad music of humanity, of five thousand snails ? for how else do you ex- Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power pect to digest a quart of cream, and the first To chasten and subdue. And I have felt fruits of a whole wilderness of strawberries? A presence that disturbs me with the joy Milk undoubtedly does agree, for the most part, of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime with calves, even though taken in large quanti- of something far more deeply interfused, ties, and I have never heard of an army of snails Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, having to send for the surgeon of the forces on And the blue sky, and

in the mind of man;

And the round ocean and the living air, account of a surseit of strawberries. But nor A motion and a spirit that impels calves nor snails could take the mixture you are All thinking things, all objecis of all thought, now taking without great danger, nor can you. And rolls through all things. Therefore I am still In vain will you seek to make all sure with a | A lover of the meadows and the woods

And mountains; and of all that we bebold hawthorn blossoms, which in these parts goes From this green earth."

universally by the name of May." How great This is the whole matter, as beautifully told was the contrast between the fresh air thus peras it is possible to imagine. The vivid, passion- fumed, and the warm, stagnant, breath-polluted ate sense of beauty which hurries us along in an atmosphere of the King's Bench! Greater still indistinct rapture-that it is which passes away, the contrast between the choky, husky voice of but other gifts follow which are abundant re- that laborious gentleman, Mr. Marryatt, quotcompense, and fitter for minds which experience ing case after case to prove that his own, or his begins to render “deep contemplative." We do client's view of some wretched squabble involve not see, and feel, and pass away; but we pause, ing a matter of thirty-five pounds three and sixand ponder, and connect thought with thought, pence, was that which should be taken by the and thus make the beauties of nature more Judges-greater still the contrast between his thoroughly our own than in the days of our ach- huskiness and the singing of innumerable birds ing joys and dizzy raptures. It is long ago now-perhaps the year 1828–

" Sometimes arising to the sky,

I heard the sky.larks sing; that one tine day in June, Scarleit had been

Sometimes, all little birds that are, opening brief after brief, in case after case, tak

How they seem'd to fill the earth and air ing the whole affair as easy as if he had been

With their sweet jargoning.” plucking cowslips in a meadow. _Tindall was musing over piles of papers, and Taunton writ- These sights, sounds, and smells of the couning opinions on the ends of briefs, while Broug-try, which I ever loved in fine weather, soon ham iwitched his nose, and made mistakes in put all thoughts of neglected attendance upon law which were good-humoredly corrected by the wisdom of the law out of my head, and I Mr. Justice Bayley. Why should I remain who arrived in great spirits at my friend's house. It had no certain business but to look on, and who was a sort of place that one sees only in Enghad a gig and horse standing at Charing Cross, land. It was not extensive, noi magnificentand an invitation in my pocket to spend the next not so picturesque, perhaps, as one ofien falls in two days near Croydon in Surrey? A certain with in Ireland or Scotland-no dashing, sparkMr. Marryalt, and a sudden burst of sunshine, ling stream, no view of mountains in the distwo things as unlike as possible, settled the mat- tance. But all that art and elegant taste could ter. Marryatt got up io move for a new trial, do within a limited space to make house and and I to move ots; and soon the Thames was grounds delightful was here done. All that exbetween me and Westminster, and I was in full pense, combined with nice judiciousness, and trot for the rising grounds of Surrey:

scrupulous neatness could effect, was here efBrixton hill is not an ugly place, though peo- fected. The lawn as smooth as a table covered ple who do not know it associate it with the with green velvet-the shrubs grouped with ideas of snug citizen's boxes along a dusty road, careful attention both to combination and conand with a treadmill which is kept in the vicin- trast; the flower-beds trimmed of every leaf and ity for the benefit of the London vagabonds, stalk that was past its prime, and exhibiting who “snap up unconsidered trifles” on the south only what was in perfect Hower, or about to beof the Thames. Then you come to Streatham, come so. The walks of shining gravel, without along a fine road, commanding a magnificent an intruding weed or even a particle of unseemview to the right of "woods, and lawns, and ly dust. The windows of the sitting-rooms, palaces," stretching away to Kew, and Wim- opening upon the garden, led by a few steps to bledon, and Richmond. Streatham itself is a beds of mignionette and heliotrope, which cast nice clean country-looking place, and was more up their fragrance into the apartments, where rural-looking then than now, for the graceful were gathered all the luxuries of furniture and wooden spire that rose so picturesquely against table ornaments-books, pictures, vases, and orits back-ground of trees has been burned down naments in china and alabaster, carved wood, by lightning, and they have built a more stern- and buhl. looking stone one in its place. A beautiful I found in the drawing-room the prettiest country lies to the left, as one dashes down the young lady in the world, who was quite a stranslope from Streatham towards Croydon, and ger to me. She was good enough, however, to now we are upon the broad Brighton road, as say that she had expected me, and had staid at smooth as a bowling-green, and dry as a car- home to write letters and receive me, while our pet, then perpetually travelled over by Brigh- friends, the owners of the house, were gone out ton coaches; but now a comparative solitude, a visiting. To say the truth, I did not care how for the multitude prefer the raiload, with all its long they staid, having left so agreeable a pernoise, its steam, and its close carriages. This is son to do the honors. Bright, blue, and beautiall very well in a day of pelting rain or snow, or ful were her eyes, and fair and silken were her any day when a saving of two hours in a journey tresses, and never were red and white more of fifty odd miles is a matter of importance ; but charmingly commingled than in her brilliant give me the open road and the fresh air from complexion. She had a mouth shaped like Cuthe fields in fine weather, without accompani- pid's bow, and teeth of ivory. Bui what was ment of smoke, or steam, or noise. I can re- more fascinating than all these--for to be alone member that day even now, how sweetly blew with a dull beauty is a dull business—she talked the western breeze over bean-fields and clover, well, and with the utmost vivacity about every and how delicious were the odors wafted from thing in the world that one ventures to talk the meadows where hay-making was already in about with women. We discussed, in the most progress, and from the hedges, still white with admirable manner, every thing about the weather, and gardening, and rural affairs in general- hatred of the unknown person to whom this about Waverly, and Woodstock, and Walter beautiful young lady was to be married. Scott, then writing away, with undaunted “ He must be a happy man," I said, “who vigor, at his life of Napoleon-about the pic- has won eo fair a lady-love." tures at the Royal Academy Exhibition, and “ One would think so," replied my friend, “but fifteen other exhibitions-about the opera, and you saw no particular signs of happiness about Sontag, and Donzelli, and Curioni, and the rest him, he dined with us to-day." of them who then were in vogue; and my What was my surprise and disgust to find that young lady seemed as much pleased with my crit- the bottle-shaped, much-talking young man, icisms as

1

was with hers, and without any fa- was the affianced futur of this charming crea. miliarity that was unbecoming, treated me as if ture. What could she see in him? How could I were an old acquaintance. She was easily she have any affection for a man who ate so prevailed upon to put on her bonnet, in which, much? Soup, salmon, mutton, fowl, longue, of course, she looked even prettier than without besides an infinity of potatoes, cauliflowers, asit, and walk through the grounds with me. paragus, and early peas! How could any but Never was a June day so delighuul: the flow- a monster do such havoc upon gross victuals in ers bloomed more charmingly, and smelled more the very presence of the creature he loved, and deliciously than usual, and the birds sang with such a creature! He did not love it was clear. unwonted sweetness.

He was incapable of any tenderness or delicacy As dinner hour approached, my friends came of sentiment. home, and then more company, and we dined. Very likely he was, but he was the second son I had not the felicity of leading my new acquain- of an exceedingly rich London merchant. He tance out to dinner, but I sat opposite, which had been to Cambridge University. He had was agreeable. We had excellent cheer, ele- taken his degree with some honor, and his gantly served, and we took our cool claret in friends said he would have been among the moderation, according to the English fashion. wranglers, had not the answering of his year I liked all the dining folk very well save one, a been unusually good. His father and all his unyoung man, tall and bottle-shaped, that is, of cles and aunts looked upon him as the eighth long neck, with narrow shoulders, and a frame wonder of the world, and thought that, barring which widened as it descended. He talked the highest order of nobility, any woman in Engmuch, and, as it seemed to me, with an authori- land would scarcely be good enough for bim. tative air, as if he had been accustomed to regard His father had just bought an estate to which a himself as a Sir Oracle, and he exhibited sur valuable living was attached, and the gentleman prising powers of appetite. After we got back was forthwith to be ordained, presented to this to the drawing-room, my young lady talked as living, and married to the charming young lady well as ever, and sang most delightfully to her I had seen, whose beauty and cleverness of conown harp accompaniment. I thought I could versation had attracted his attention when visithave looked and listened forever. We petition- ing at my friend's house. It was much doubted, ed against candles being brought in, on account I believe, whether the lady cared two straws for of the heat; but partly the twilight, and partly the gentleman, but she could learn to care for the lovely light of a summer moon, ehining from him, and it was not in the nature of things to be a cloudless sky, poured its soft radiance into the indifferent to the prospect of eight thousand a room, and this, with the smell of flowers, the year eventually, and two thousand a year to be. charming sounds of song and stringed music, gin with. And there was nothing against the and the beauty and gracefulness of the perform- young man. On the contrary, he had always er, made up a whole of extreme deliciousness. I been very steady, and had a mind to comprehend At last, the company went away and my young mathematics. The whole matter, therefore, was lady retired, and I was left alone with mine host soon arranged. All this I gathered in about ten and hostess. It was time to go to bed, if that minutes talk with my friends while the bed-room time can be said ever to come on a lovely night candles were bringing in. in June ; but of course I could not refuse myself I would willingly have ordered my gig, even the delight of talking about the young lady who at that late hour, and have driven back to town, had just vanished. I mentioned how much I but it would have seemed ridiculous. I told some was indebted for her reception of me.

story, however, of business to be attended to in “I had forgotten,” said Mrs.

“I Westminster next morning, and arranged to thought you knew my cousin. Surely you have leave before breakfast. I believe the morning met her belore with us."

was as fine a one as ever came, but I do not “No,” said I, with earnestness; “she is not think I took much notice of its beauties as I one of those that one may see, and then forget drove rapidly back along the road which I had that one has seen--how very charming she is !" so much enjoyed the day before. When eleven

“She is, indeed, a very charming girl,” said o'clock came, I found myself again amid the Mr. 6 and a very good girl too, which is hum, and squeezing, and professional jokes of better; but I give you warning, my young gen- the third row in the Court of King's Bench. To tleman, that you must not fall in love with her, this day, I sometimes heave a halt sigh as I pass for she is engaged to be married."

through the country to the west of Croydon. I felt as if my friend had given me a blow on The fair fiancée of by-gone days is now a fine the left side of the chest; however I soon recov- woman, inclined to be fat, and the mother of ered, and began to indulge myself in very fierce seven promising children.

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