but it is not natural, to behold all the glory and goodliness of the creation, without being led to the Infinite Glory. It is not natural. It is as if one should look upon a lovely countenance, and never think of the loveliness which it enshrines. 5. No, the grandeur and loveliness of nature-sunsets and stars, and the almost literally uplifting deeps of the blue sky, as we gaze upon them-and earth with its beauty, soft, wild, entrancing with its glorious verdure, its autumn splendor, its sprinkled wilderness of charming hues and forms; and ocean, bathing its summer shōres, and bearing like many-colored gems upon its bosom the green and flowery islands—these things are not only beautiful, but they are images and revelations of a glory and a goodliness, unseen and ineffable.1 3 6. They steep the soul in reveries and dreams of enchantment, unearthly and immortal. How has the radiant vision kindled the poet's eye and lighted the torch of genius, and come down as fire from heaven upon the altars of piety, in all ages! A bed or a bouquet of flowers-who can read anything upon their soft and shining pětals* and delicate hues, but sweetness, purity, and goodness; and how many silent thanksgivings from those who bend over them, have ascended to Heaven, on the breath of their fragrant incense! 7. And music-what chord in all its wondrous harmonies ever touched any evil passion? I have heard of voluptuous music; but I never heard it, and can not conceive of it. Words may be voluptuous, or wrathful, or revengeful; but not melodies. Hotbeds of musical culture there may be, that corrupt the heart; but it is not music that does it. I should as soon think of a sunbeam's soiling the atmosphere it passes through. 8. No, there is no possible concord of sweet sounds, there is no combination of tones within the range of harmony, but it weaves garments of light and purity for the soul. All melody naturally bears the thoughts into realms of holy imagining, sentiment, and 1 In ĕf' fa ble, not capable of being expressed in words; untold; unspeakable. 2 Rev er ie', a loose or irregular train of thoughts, occurring in musing; wild, extravagant conceit of the fancy or imagination. 3 Bouquet (bo kā′). 4 Pět' al, one of the inner or colored leaves of a flower. 5 Vo lupt' u oŭs, full of delight or pleasure; exciting sensual desire. worship. I would cultivate music in a family, with the same intent as I would build an altar. Away with the unworthy notion of it, as a mere fashionable accomplishment! It is a high ministration. And the highest musical culture, so far from being time and means thrown away, is really as a priesthood in the household. Adapted from DEWEY. ORVILLE DEWEY, D. D., was born in Sheffield, Berkshire County, Massachusetts, March 28th, 1794. He entered Williams College, in his native county, at the age of seventeen, where he gained a high position. He was thorough in all his studies. Rhetoric he cultivated with uncommon perseverance. He was critical and severe upon his own literary productions, revising and pruning with a fidelity which gained him preeminence in his class, as already attaining a style of classic strength and purity. He was graduated in 1814, with the highest honors of the institution, having received the appointment of valedictorian. He pursued his professional studies at Andover Theological Seminary. In 1823 he received and accepted a call to become pastor of a Unitarian Church in New Bedford, where he remained ten years. During this period he lectured frequently, and wrote for the press. He first visited Europe for the improvement of his health in June, 1833, where he spent a year. After his return, he published some results of his travels in a volume entitled, "The Old World and the New." This book contains some of the best criticisms on painting, on music, on sculpture, on men, things, and places; and more than all, views of society, of government, of the tendency of monarchical institutions, and of the condition of the European people, which are sound, comprehensive, and deeply interesting. On his return from Europe he was settled over the Second Congregational Unitarian Society of New York. In 1842 he again went abroad for his health, taking his family with him. He passed two years in France, Italy, Switzerland, and England. In 1848, his health again failing, he dissolved his connection with his church. Since that time he has occasionally preached and lectured in nearly all the large cities of the Union. All, except his late writings, are bound in one volume, published at London, in 1844. His productions since that period are published in New York, in three volumes, except his latest, "The Problem of Human Destiny," which appeared in 1864. Dr. Dewey has great depth of thought. His imagination is rich, but not superfluous; ready, but not obtrusive. His style is artistic and scholarly. His periods are perfectly complete and rounded, yet filled by the thought; the variety is great, yet a symmetry prevails; and in general we find that harmony between the thoughts and their form which should always obtain. IV. 4. HYMN TO THE BEAUTIFUL. PIRIT of Beauty! whatsoe'er thou art, SPIRI I see thy skirts afar, and feel thy power; Nor mine ălōne, but myriads1 feel thee now, That know not what they feel, nor why they bow; 1 Myr' ĭ ads, a myriad is the number of ten thousand, but is some times used for any very large number; a very great many. Thou canst not be forgot, For all men worship thee, and know it not; Nor men ålōne, but babes with wondrous eyes, New-comers on the earth, and strangers from the skies! 2. We hold the keys of Heaven within our hands, Transfigured' in the light that streams along the lands! And up and down the skies, With winged sandals shod, The angels come, and go, the messengers of God! It is the childish heart: We walk as heretofore, Adown their shining ranks, but see them nevermōre! A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; And every little daisy in the grass Did look up in my face, and smile to see me pass! 4. Not long can Nature satisfy the mind, Nor outward fancies feed its inner flame; We feel a growing want we can not name, And long for something sweet, but undefined; The wants of Beauty other wants creäte, Which overflow on others soon or late; 1 Trans fig' ured, changed in outward form or appearance. For all that worship thee must ease the heart, Divinest Melancholy walks with thee, Her thin white cheek forever leaned on thine; In exultation shouting songs divine! But on thy breast Love lies-immortal child!- For here below, as in the spheres above, 5. Not from the things around us do we draw Thy light within: within the light is born; Line after line immortal songs arise, And limb by limb, out-starting stern and slow, Sound after sound is born, and dies like wind, For thine the more mysterious human heart, 6. Earth is thine outer court, and Life a breath; 1 Oracle (ŏr' a kl), the answer of a god, or some person said to be a god, among the heathen, to an inquiry made in regard to some fu ture event; the god who gave the person. Not thine ǎlone the lesser key of Birth- And all the worlds, with all that they contain And hung below the throne. Where Thou dost sit, the universe to bless Thou sovereign smile of God, eternal loveliness! STODDARD. RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, an American poet and author, was born in Hingham, Mass., July, 1825. He became a contributor to periodicals in 1848, and published his first volume of poems, entitled "Footprints," in 1849. He has published several vol. umes since, both in prose and verse. He is still a frequent contributor to magazines and newspapers." S SECTION II. I. 5. YOUTHFUL FRIENDSHIP. PART FIRST. UBLIME solitudes of our boyhood! where cach stone in the desert was sublime, unassociated though it was with dreams of memory, in its own simple native power over the human heart! Each sudden breath of wind passed by us like the voice of a spirit. There were strange meanings in the clouds-often so like human forms and faces threatening us off, or beckoning us on, with long black arms, back into the long withdrawing wilderness of heaven. 2. We wished then, with quaking bosoms,' that we had not been all ǎlōne in the desert-that there had been another heart, whose beatings might have kept time with our own, that we might have gathered courage in the silent and sullen gloom from the light in a brother's eye-the smile on a brother's countenance. And often had we such a friend in these our far-off wanderings, over moors and mountains, by the edge of lochs' and through the umbrage of the old pine-woods. A friend from 1 Bosom (bů zum). 3 2 Loch (lõk), a lake; a bay or arm of the sea. [Scottish.] 3 Um' brage, shade; shadow; hence, that which affords a shade, as a screen of trees. |