Imatges de pàgina
PDF
EPUB

be crossed on the dangerous footing of a felled tree, in a sudden feeling of terror she clung to him for support. He felt a thrill of unspeakable delight darting through his frame; and had he not shaken off its influence, and hurried from the spot, it is probable the indulgence of such happy feelings, in such a situation, would have led to the destruction of both. The rest of their journey was of a less hazardous character, and therefore more favourable for conversation. It was a time when the feelings of the heart overpower all other sensations-when thought is most eloquent of meaning, but when the tongue is voiceless. The pleasing influence of a first impression takes possession of soul and sense, and there revels on unchecked; those sympathies which nature has planted in the human heart, for the best and wisest purpose, gather power, increase in force, and become more pleasing, until the impression becomes less and less effaceable, and the germ of a fond and passionate attach ment rises into being. Silence at such a time renders the most powerful assistance; fancy is allowed to dwell upon the theme, and the imagination to colour it in its brightest hues; affection gathers in the bud, puts forth its leaves, and soon becomes too strong to be blighted in its early growth.

Edward Morris was the only son of a clergyman, the rector of a neighbouring village a few miles distant from the residence of Captain Hughes. His father had been considered one of the best classical scholars of the university to which he belonged his mother had died in his infancy; and his remaining parent found a sweet and precious solace in directing the education and watching the progress of his child's mind. He devoted nearly the whole of his attention to so pleasing a study, and he never had occasion to regret it. Edward proceeded rapidly in his studies, at an early age giving promise of future excellence. Now, in his eighteenth year, he was thoroughly conversant with the greatest of the poets, philosophers, and historians of the ancient world, and with the most valuable portion of the language and literature of modern Europe. He had visited almost every corner of the mountain land that gave him birth; and his footsteps were as familiar with the summits of Snowdon and Cader Idris, as they were with the green pathways in the valleys of Clwyd and Glyndwrdwy. His mind was stored with the local traditions of the hospitable pea

santry, among whom he was always a welcome guest. From the romantic annals and the legendary minstrelsy they had furnished him with, together with the influence of the sublime scenery, in which he had ever moved and breathed, he possessed an imagination of a highly poetical character. Had he enjoyed those advantages which are necessary to its favourable development, such an imagination would have ranked him high among the possessors of "the faculty divine." With such attainments his father proposed sending him to college, that he might pursue his studies into the higher branches of education, be ordained, and become his successor in the church.

Mary was approaching home, when they met her father mounted on his old black pony, and accompanied by several of the labourers on his estate. He had been alarmed by her prolonged stay, and had set out, with some of his men, for the purpose of seeking her. When they discovered the object of their search, the wild Highlanders, to many of whom Morris was personally known, sent up a shout of recognition, which he returned with as much gratification. The old man alighted, embraced his daughter and expressed his joy at her return. He appeared as if overjoyed at once more beholding his child, for whose safety he had lately entertained such fearful forebodings; and the warmhearted Celts that accompanied him seemed to feel as strongly the general joy,-for they danced about like wild deer, and sang snatches of songs, in an idiom almost as ancient as their mountains. When the captain was made acquainted with the particulars of his child's preservation, heightened as the relation was by the enthusiasm of her gratitude, it appeared as if he thought he could never express his thanks sufficiently. He shook Edward by the hand again and again, and invited him to his house, with many expressions of esteem and good will.

"Gryffydd!" called out the veteran, to a wild-looking son of the hills, who seemed as happy as the rest; 66 why stand ye capering like a young goat in the sunshine? Have ye been touched by the spear-grass wands of the ty wyth teg? Haste to the house of my fathers, and bid my people welcome, with feasting and with songs, the preserver of the Flower of the Hills-the bright-eyed daughter of Morgan, ap Gwylym, ap Hughes."

+ Fair family-the fairies.

"Nev a roddo da i ti !" + exclaimed the Celt to Edward, looking on him with a countenance expressive of the sincerest pleasure; and then darting off to do the bidding of his lord with the speed of an antelope.

They proceeded homewards in all joyfulness of heart, when they were met by the whole population of the district, men, women, and children, who seemed to participate in the gladness of their lord, to whom they were much attached. Captain Hughes, as he alighted at the gate of his house, which had been in possession of his family for centuries, welcomed Edward to the home of his fathers, and led the way to the hall, where sat the old harper, twining his bony fingers in the strings of his ancient harp.

"Prichard!" said the lord of the mansion, in the language with which he always addressed his people; "let the tuneful chords of thy harp sound a welcome to the stranger; for we owe him thanks for having saved from death the last of our house. Sound the bardic welcome to the brave, and thou shalt have the blue hirlas full of yellow mead to drink his health."

It was a generally-received superstition, that the bards of old were gifted with a knowledge of futurity, and could, in their wild and irregular numbers, give notice to the living of danger and death. From this cause they had been held holy by the many; and even by those who have been thought most free of such influence, they were treated with the most profound veneration and respect. What, then, could equal the astonishment all felt, when the old man, after striking a few chords, broke out into a symphony of melancholy sweetness and sorrowful lamentation? Wo! wo! to the balls of thy fathers, for they

shall become desolate!

The bats shall congregate in thy chambers, And the owls be busy on thy hearths. Wo! wo! to the stranger, for his days shall be

but few:

Old age shall never whiten his dark hair, And his bright eye shall see the grave. Wo! wo! to the last of thy race, for she shall

perish.

Even the bright Flower of the Hills
Shall wither in the bud.

Wo! wo! to Morgan, ap Gwylym, ap Merydydd, ap Hughes;

For he shall be left like a blighted tree, On the rocks of Craig yr Wyddva. The bard closed his minstrelsy with a sigh that seemed almost to break the heart whence it issued.

“What, Prichard!” exclaimed his lord, is this the way thou welcomest my guest? But when I ask thee to honour + Heaven bestow good on thee!

us with thy minstrelsy again, it is to be hoped thy awen‡ may produce something more appropriate."

He proceeded to the usual sittingroom, followed by Edward and Mary, both of whom were musing on the melancholy import of the harper's melody. On them it had succeeded in making a deeper impression than it could be supposed to make on the strong mind of the rough soldier, who seldom allowed his senses to be worked upon by the superstitions of the peasantry. From the mind of Edward it was soon erased by the cordiality of his host: but Mary never forgot it; she treasured it up in her remembrance, till death blotted from her memory all that was sad and all that was pleasing.

In the course of conversation, the captain discovered that the father of his young friend had been the college chum and confidential companion of his early days. This was a fresh call upon his friendship, and he allowed the kindlier feelings of his heart to exercise their full sway and to possess their strongest influence. He would hear no excuse, but forced him to accept an invitation to pass the night in his house, making the hours run on with the most agreeable rapidity, by the relation of his campaigns in the Peninsula, or his freaks at college.

When Edward awoke the next morning, he looked from his window over the surrounding country, and saw the sun rising, and the mists retreating from the valleys to the higher grounds. He prepared himself for a walk, and stepped out upon the lawn opposite the house: the grass was wet with the last night's dews, which the air had not yet gained sufficiently warm a temperature to imbibe. He bent his footsteps towards a garden, whose gravel walks presented the prospect of a more agreeable footing. He saw there flowers in their glowing hues, filling the air with their fragrance, and delighting the eye with their beauty. He stayed a short time to admire them, and passed on to an antique summerhouse that appeared at the bottom of one of the walks. He was proceeding to enter it, when he was stopped by hearing the sounds of a harp, which appeared to issue from the building. paused, and heard one of his own wild mountain melodies sung in a tone of such surpassing sweetness and such characteristic simplicity, that he felt as spell-bound with the witchery of the sounds. When the voice had ceased, Poetical inspiration.

He

he entered the building, and discovered Mary Hughes, in a neat and graceful morning dress, bending over the harp, and still employed in producing chords from its melodious strings. She turned her head as he entered, and when she saw who it was, she welcomed him with one of her most winning smiles, placed her hand in his, and as she had never felt the necessity of concealing her natural feelings, she did not attempt to disguise her joy at seeing him. Edward was enraptured at the kind reception he had met with, and gazed on the lovely being before him with eyes that seemed to drink in the image of her beauty with an intensity of pleasure too powerful for the most talented writer to describe.

Edward loved her,-fondly, dearly, and ardently loved her; in his soul he worshipped, in his heart he adored her; the ground she trod on was made only by her footsteps, the things she handled were sanctificed by her touch. Even the very atmosphere in which she moved seemed to him to borrow light and purity from the rich splendour of her loveliness; and the bright lustre of her dove-like eyes appeared to confer unimaginable beauty upon every thing on which they dwelt.

One evening they left their fathers engaged in discussing the merits of an object of disputed antiquity, and proceeded on one of their usual walks. The night was uncommonly fine, the air pure as it generally is in a mountainous country, the sky without a cloud, and the stars possessing more than their accustomed brilliancy. The moon on such scenery as this produces an effect upon which no imagination can confer due justice the trees, the waters, and the far-off hills, were touched with a featherly mantle of the most brilliant white, and the tops of the distant mountains were as clearly visible as they are in the brightest day. In the dark waters of the lake the stars shone as vividly as in their own element; and the trees upon its bank seemed sleeping on the still bosom of the waters, like things without life, and without motion.

Never was a scene more fitted to immortalise the hand of a painter, never a landscape that more clearly displayed the immortality of its Creator. Their walk led them towards the ruins of an old monastery, which had lately become a favourite resort. It looked glorious in the moonlight: its fragments covered a vast extent of ground. One magnificent window was entire, and several smaller ones imper

fect, but what was visible of them was marked by sculpture by no mean hand. There were arches, several of which were covered with beautiful traceries; and pillars, most of them in fragments, but many possessing sufficient solidity to give the beholder an idea of the vast structure to which they once belonged. One or two chambers were still perfect; the rest an undistinguished heap of ruins.. Here and there was an empty niche, that plainly told to what service it had formerly been devoted; but the figure of the saint or virgin, which once filled up its vacant corner, and long since crumbled into dust. Most of the stone-work was concealed by a profusion of lichens and wild flowers, that grew there in all the luxury of undisciplined vegetation.

Wales is rich in picturesque ruins, more so than any country of similar extent; for the troubles that have so often desolated the hearths of her people have passed over other lands less frequently and less severely: but the relics of the old monastery is characterised with a beauty of a peculiar character, touching the heart more deeply than the more glorious wrecks of a more glorious time. There was something holy in the solitary loneliness of its walls-something sublime in the desolate grandeur of its masses. Many legends were connected with it. The peasantry allowed it to be haunted with the ghosts of the departed monks, and seldom dared to venture within its immediate neighbourhood. But such idle tales had little influence on those who were now journeying_thither. They walked under its ruined archways, and seated themselves upon the pedestal of a fallen column. Here they sat watching the beautiful effect of the moonbeams stealing through the interstices in the ivy, and breaking into a thousand fragments of light, that fell upon the green and discoloured pavement at their feet. They had been engaged some time talking of the delightful effect of light and shade, when Mary heard, or fancied that she heard, sounds like those of a man's voice; but Edward assured her it was most probably a bat shrieking in some distant part of the building; and she expressed herself satisfied. It was not long, however, before they again heard the same sounds, and heard them more plainly. He was certain there were others in the ruins besides themselves, and, with the natural impetuosity of youth, jumped up to know who they He received Mary's assurance

were.

that she would not be alarmed if he left her for a few moments, and sallied out in the direction whence he thought the sounds proceeded. He had gone on some little distance, treading with cautious footsteps the perilous ground over which he passed, and had entered what had probably been once a cell, when he heard a long and piercing scream, followed by cries for help in a voice he could not mistake. A bar of iron had been displaced by rust or violence from its position across the window, and was connected with the wall by one part only; he easily wrenched it from its hold, and leaped over the shaking stones like a wild deer along the heather. He returned in time to see his beautiful Mary struggling in the arms of two ruffian-looking sailors, and shrieking out his name for help. They were carrying her off. Edward, as he approached, called out to the villians to let her go. One of them, leaving his destined prey, discharged a pistol at his head, which fortunately missed its aim. Before he had time to draw the other he was levelled to the ground with the iron bar. The other ruffian, seeing his companion fall, thought best to seek safety in flight. He escaped not scathless; for Edward fired at him the pistol he had taken possession of from his fallen comrade; and it was evident that he was severely wounded; for a shepherd, the next morning, traced blood upon the grass to a considerable distance.

When Mary found herself free from her assailants, she rushed into the arms of her deliverer, who could not refrain from pressing her to his heart. She looked up into his face with her bright eyes overflowing with love and gratitude, their lips met,-and one prolonged delicious kiss was the seal of their mutual affection. How long they remained in this state of delight and happiness it matters not; it was time sufficient for him to tell the love that had so long lain brooding in his breast, and sufficient for him to hear her, in return, own how dearly she loved him.

The outpourings of his heart, when once allowed vent, were discharged in a flood of eloquence and truth. He told her of the growth of his passion from its commencement to its confession, how his soul had yearned for her beauty, how his heart had thirsted for her presence,how the world had become dark to him when the light of her fair eyes had ceased to dwell upon the air he breath

ed,-aud how nature had become neglected by him when her loveliness no longer appeared, to shine forth the brightest feature in the landscape. There was a fire in his words and an energy in his manner which there was no withstanding. Again and again,

her eyes beaming with the ecstasy of her feelings-her bosom panting with the intensity of her affection-her cheeks suffused with the glow of passionate excitement,-did the lovely girl press him closer and closer to her heart, in gushes of an uncontrollable transport, of which before she had never experienced a tithe of the joy.

In the mean time the ruffian, whom Edward had left for dead upon the ground, but who was merely stunned, began to recover from the effects of the blow; and seeing his late antagonist so much engaged as not likely to pay much attention to his movements, he took himself off in the most quiet way he possibly could, not wishing to risk another blow from so formidable a weapon.

As they walked home, they agreed that their fathers were not to know any thing of what had occurred until the following day? when she consented, after much persuasion, that he should ask their permission to their union. To be continued.

ENGLAND.

Oh, tell me, are the roses there,
On our own bright hillock's side;
And are our hedges purple yet,
With the soft sweet violets dyed?
And doth the sparkling cowslip peep
Forth from its emerald bed?
And hath the modest primrose dared
To raise her dewy head?

The joyous throng of summer birds,
Oh, tell me, are they come,

To pour their deep songs from the woods
Of our happy English home?
And do our springs bright morning's glow,
With that deep clear hue of red,
With that all-pervading loveliness

O'er home's soft landscape spread?

Still do the setting sunbeams smile,

Where the merry children play,
With their shouts of joyous laughter,
On the gay half holiday?
Say, is each gorgeous flower culled
To grace that evening hearth?
And on the Seventh Day do they meet
The happiest on the earth?

Doth our grey church turret still
From its own bright valley rise,
In all its sacred loneliness,

To meet our silent skies?
And is that calm clear voice yet heard,
In the earnestuess of prayer;
Doth that sacred blessing slowly rise
Upon the solemn air?

[blocks in formation]

NEARLY every variety of religious belief finds its supporters in Charleston, and the clergy of all denominations are highly and deservedly respected. During the period of my residence there, Dr. England, the Roman Catholic Bishop, was the most distinguished for talent and energy of character. He is one of the best argumentative orators I have ever heard from the pulpit, and his afternoon discourses were always delivered to crowded audiences, composed in part of the wealthiest and best educated Protestants in the city. His regular congregration was extremely poor, and he was under the necessity of keeping a school, to augment his slender income. Assuredly, I never considered him a less worthy representative of the Apostles on that account; and when the propriety of granting large incomes to the dignitaries of our own church is insisted upon, in order to procure for them the respect and deference of the laity, I always think of the highly gift ed Bishop of Charleston, who has secured the affection and reverence of his flock, and the universal esteem of his fellow citizens, by the simple exercise of the Christian virtues, and the absence of episcopal pomp.

In Charleston, as in every other city' .n the Union, it is usual for people of all ranks to herd together in large boarding houses. The great variety which a stranger is thereby enabled to see, compensates, in some degree, for the discomfort to which the practice necessarily subjects him. It is proverbial, that an Englishman, out of his own country, may in vain expect to take bis ease at his inn; but the young, the active, and the enquiring, have little reason to complain of any peculiarity in the mode of living, which opens to their inspection the real character of the people with whom they may be temporary sojourners. There is scarcely any difficulty in procuring admission to the palaces of the great. The lives and conversation of German, Spanish, and Italian nobles, have been correctly de

lineated and reported in the journals of numberless tourists; but where shall we meet with the traveller, more especially the English traveller, who is qualified to describe the domestic manners, and instruct us in the habits of thought, which distinguish the middle classes of Continental Europe from their self-exhibiting superiors in rank -the lawyers, the merchants, the agriculturalists, and the working clergy, from the "puff and patty portion of mankind?" Now, in their boardinghouses, you see the Americans in their natural and unassumed characters; and notwithstanding the repeated assertions of the contrary, I am ready to maintain, that courtesy and good humour almost invariably mark the conduct of the guests. I allude, of course, to the well educated classes. If soi-disans ladies and gentlemen will visit coarse, and low-bred people, and will frequent third-rate hotels, they ought at least, in common decency, to refrain from attempting to pass off the manners and conversation of their associates as those of the nation at large.

This mention of American inns, reminds me of having once dined at the Planter's Hotel, in Charleston, in rather singular company. Immediately opposite to me sat Mr. Conway, the actor; next to him, on the right, the then Prince, now reigning Duke of Saxe Weimar, who was supported on his left by a "yankee" judge from Connecticut. This latter personage, to the duties of a judge united the business of a hat manufacturer, and kept a shop for the sale of his goods iu Charleston.

The table at these hotels is generally spread with great abundance. Turtle and terrapin soup, fish, venison, wild turkeys, and meat of all kinds, are the common dishes. Very little wine is drank, and rather too much brandy. The wine is almost always Madeira, to the perfection of which the climate is very favourable. The charge per week is about two guineas.

The whole white male population, capable of bearing arms, is compelled to perform military duty although the French are expressly exempted from it by treaty, and the English, and all other aliens, by the universally acknowledged law of nations. Treaties and laws, however, are disregarded in the southern States, whenever the more effectual coercion of the slaves is the point to be considered. Self-preservation is declared to be the paramount duty.

« AnteriorContinua »