And all is gorgeous, fairy-like and frail
As the famed gardens of the Arabian tale.

How soft and still the varied landscape lies,
Calmly outspread beneath the smiling skies,
As if the earth in prodigal array

Of

gems and broidered robes kept holiday; Her harvest yielded and her work all done Basking in beauty 'neath the autumn sun!

Yet once more through the soft and balmy day
Up the brown hill-side, o'er the sunny brae
Far let us rove-or, through lone solitudes

Where "autumn's smile beams through the yellow woods,
Fondly retracing each sweet, summer haunt

And sylvan pathway-where the sunbeams slant
Through yonder copse, tinging the saffron stars
Of the witch-hazel with their golden bars,
Or, lingering down this dim and shadowy lane.
Where still the damp sod wears an emerald stain,
Though ripe brown nuts hang clustering in the hedge
And the rude barberry o'er yon rocky ledge
Droops with its pendant corals. When the showers
Of April clothed this winding path with flowers,
Here oft we sought the violet, as it lay
Buried in beds of moss and lichens grey;

And still the aster greets us as we pass
With her faint smile-among the withered grass;

599

Beside the way, lingering as loth of heart,
Like me, from these sweet solitudes to part.

Now seek we the dank borders of the stream
Where the tall fern-tufts shed a ruby gleam
Over the water from their crimsoned plumes,
And clustering near the modest gentian blooms
Lonely around-hallowed by sweetest song,
The last and loveliest of the floral throng.
Yet here we may not linger, for behold,
Where the stream widens, like a sea of gold
Outspreading far before us-all around

Steep wooded heights and sloping uplands bound
The sheltered scene-along the distant shore
Through colored woods the glinting sunbeams pour,
Touching their foliage with a thousand shades
And hues of beauty, as the red light fades
Upon the hill-side 'neath yon floating shroud,
Or, from the silvery edges of the cloud

Pours down a brighter gleam. Gray willows lave
Their pendant branches in the crystal wave,
And slender birch-trees o'er its banks incline,
Whose tall, slight stems across the water shine
Like shafts of silver-there the tawny elm,
The fairest subject of the sylvan realm,
The tufted pine-tree and the cedar dark,

And the young chestnut, its smooth polished bark
Gleaming like porphyry in the yellow light,
The dark brown oak and the rich maple dight

In robes of scarlet, all are standing there

So still, so calm in the soft misty air
That not a leaf is stirring-nor a sound
Startles the deep repose that broods around,
Save when the robin's melancholy song

Is heard from yonder coppice, and along
The sunny side of that low, moss-grown wall
That skirts our path, the cricket's chirping call,
Or, the fond murmur of the drowsy bee
O'er some lone flowret on the sunny lea,

And, heard at intervals, a pattering sound
Of ripened acorns rustling to the ground
Through the crisp, withered leaves.-How lonely all,
How calmly beautiful! Long shadows fall
More darkly o'er the wave as day declines,
Yet from the west a deeper glory shines,
While every crested hill and rocky height
Each moment varies in the kindling light
To some new form of beauty-changing through
All shades and colors of the rainbow's hue,
"The last still loveliest" till the gorgeous day
Melts in a flood of golden light away,

And all is o'er. Before to-morrow's sun

Cold winds may rise and shrouding shadows dun
Obscure the scene-yet shall these fading hues
And fleeting forms their loveliness transfuse
Into the mind-and memory shall burn

The painting in on her enamelled urn

In undecaying colors. When the blast

Rages around and snows are gathering fast,
When musing sadly by the twilight hearth
Or lonely wandering through life's crowded path
Its quiet beauty rising through the gloom
Shall soothe the languid spirits and illume
The drooping fancy-winning back the soul

To cheerful thoughts through nature's sweet control.

THE PRESENT INTELLECTUAL AND POLITICAL CONDITION OF EUROPE.

BY THE REV. FRANCIS WAYLAND, D. D.

WITHIN the last fifty years, the intellectual character of the middling and lower classes of society throughout the civilized world has materially improved, and the process of improvement is at present going forward with accelerated rapidity. A taste for that sort of reading, which requires considerable reflection, and even some acquaintance with the abstract sciences, is every day becoming more widely disseminated. And not only is the number of newspapers multiplying beyond any former precedent, but it is found necessary to enlist in their

service a far greater portion of literary talent than at any other period.

And truth obliges us to state, that this melioration owes much of its late advancement to the pious zeal of Protestant Christians. Desirous to extend the means of salvation to the whole human race, these benevolent men have labored with perseverance and success, not only to circulate the Bible, but to enable men to read it. Hence have arisen the British and Foreign Bible Society, the British and Foreign School Society, the Baptist Irish Society, the multiplied free schools, and the innumerable Sabbath Schools, which are so peculiarly the glory of the present age of the church. And surely it is delightful to witness the disciples of Him, who went about doing good, thus girding themselves to the work of redeeming their fellow men from ignorance and sin. O! it is a goodly thing to behold the rich man pouring forth from his abundance, and the poor man casting in his mite; the old man directing by counsel, and the young man seconding him by exertion; the matron visiting the prison, and the young woman instructing the Sabbath School; and all pledging themselves, each one to the other, that, God helping them, this world shall be the better for their having lived in it. The effects of these exer