Library OF CONGRESS. I 
 
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 ^UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | 
 
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 BY 
 
 MI^RI^ J. BISHOF, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "thoughts IN A SICK CHAMBEK," "WORDS TO THE 
 
 MARINER," "letters TO A GOD-SON," "THE WOODLAND 
 
 WALK," " HOURS WITH THE LONELY." 
 
 
 BOSTON; ^ 
 
 PUBLISHED BY B. B. KUSSELL, 
 
 55 CORNHILL. 
 
T5 /o^^ . 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, 
 
 BY MARIA J. BISHOP, 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
Dear Madam: — 
 
 Will you permit me to associate yoiar honored name with 
 this trifling effort V feeling that whatever maybe its reception 
 by others, or its own deficiency, in your regard, it will meet 
 with the kind conctruction Avith which you have ever dis- 
 tinguished its author. 
 
 Please accept it as a slight token of the sincere regard and 
 deep respect with which I have the honor to be, Madam, 
 Yours gratefully, 
 
 M. J. B. 
 
doK'i'^K'i'.^ 
 
 The l!^ATiviTY, ---------7 
 
 The Sea-shell, ---------9 
 
 The MI^^STEY of the Suffeeixg, - - - - - 11 
 
 The Attack, -----____ 13 
 
 The Death of the First-bokn, ----- 20 
 
 E2fDUKANCE, --__----_ 23 
 
 The Use of Talents, -------26 
 
 Anchored, ----------30 
 
 Cultivation of the Intellect, ----- 32 
 
 Alone, ----_-_--_ 37 
 
 The Prize, --_--. ---38 
 
 The Ruins of Pompeii. -------45 
 
 Energy, ----------47 
 
 Equality, ----------49 
 
 Christmas, ---------52 
 
 The Value of Time, -------54 
 
 In Memoriam. ---------58 
 
 Eetirement Fayor^vble to Moral Excellence, - - 59 
 Galilee, ----------63 
 
0jifiti! di^oU®^. 
 
 THE NATIVITY 
 
 'Tis midnight, and Judea's hills in placid beauty lay- 
 As folds its wings o'er Palestine, the soften'd, silver ray. 
 And sweet Siloa's murmur, like a harp of liquid tone, « 
 
 Rings on the heart its melody, in music faint alone, 
 And rushing Cedron, o'er its bed, seeks Jordan's peaceful 
 
 wave, 
 And onward sweeps by Olivet, by king's* and prophet's 
 
 grave. 
 Judea's hills are glistening 'neath the pearly dews of 
 
 night, 
 .And on the whispering breezes, the palm-plumes quiver 
 
 light; 
 O'er pastures, which the Psalmist praised, where stillest 
 
 waters flow 
 The snowy flock reposes, and the shepherd wanders slow, 
 
 7 
 
8 SUITSET CLOUDS. 
 
 While through the arched heavens, one bright transcen- 
 dent gem, 
 Floats on, on light's own pinion, to the walls of Bethle- 
 hem. 
 A kingly train is moving across the desert far, 
 And brows where gleam the diadem are raised towards 
 
 that star : 
 All, all is stillest silence, save the golden bridle's ring, 
 As o'er three princely forms unfold the banners of a king; 
 They come from distant Ararat, for prophecy has told, 
 A mighty one has risen, which nations shall behold. 
 Now bearing regal tribute, o'er distant deserts far 
 They hail with adoration, blest Jacob's silver star: 
 And now, an orb of living light, it burns in splendor, 
 
 where 
 The mangers of a stable rude, a helpless infant, bear; 
 And now before that fragile form, bend low in homage 
 
 there. 
 The wise, the mighty ones of earth, and pour the suppli- 
 ant prayer. 
 Through hidings of deep poverty, the eastern pilgrims see 
 The Godhead Bursting through its folds in bright Divin- 
 ity, 
 As Judah's king their tribute gold, they lavish at his feetj 
 As Judah's God, their costly myrrh from India's thickets 
 
 sweet. 
 For Israel's King is God alone, the Lord of earth and 
 
 heaven, 
 And to his holy name, the sacred frankincense is given — 
 O Great Redeemer ! we with them, in adoration lay 
 
THE SEA-SHELL. \) 
 
 Before thy throne, the purest gold that love and faith can 
 
 pay, 
 With myrrh of fervent praises, we thy holy name embalm. 
 While prayer, as sacred incense, shall thine earthly altars 
 
 warm; 
 And while we seek thy dwelling, we feel that love's bright 
 
 star 
 Which guides us through hfe's pilgrimage, is stationary 
 
 there ; 
 While Angel-harps are ringing the house of thine abode 
 Good will and peace "to sinful man," ''All glory be to 
 
 God." 
 
 THE SEA-SHELL. 
 
 Come trace awhile the sounding shore, 
 
 Where foot hath seldom trod. 
 
 And through the flashing surf explore. 
 
 The footsteps «of a God. 
 
 Here, whirlwinds swell their sullen breath, 
 
 And lightning lances play. 
 
 While tempest speak the mandate, " Death, 
 
 Or silenced, sink away. 
 
 How calmly grand the evening sky. 
 
 Where sunset's banner fell. 
 
 Yet all its purple pageantry. 
 
 Is burnished on this shell. 
 
 Some watch the tide of living gold, 
 Wafting the glory higher. 
 
10 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 While to their minds the clouds unrolled 
 
 Are sentences of fire. 
 
 To them the stars are eloquent, 
 
 That thread the milky way, 
 
 And forest, lake, and mountain rend, 
 
 Like Memnon's statue play. 
 
 But softer tones across the sea 
 
 And liquid murmurs swell, 
 
 Dying away in melody 
 
 Within this sea- washed shell. 
 
 It tells us of that mighty Hand 
 
 That hollowed out the deep, 
 
 Chaining with links of silver sand 
 
 The billows headlong leap. 
 
 The citron grove and orange bower 
 
 Exhausted not his skill ; 
 
 Not cedar bough or queenly flower. 
 
 Their Makers praise fulfill. 
 
 He bade the roaring, surging sea, 
 
 Sound soft as Sabbath bell*, 
 
 Dying away in melody, 
 
 Within this sea-washed shell. 
 
 Seraphs may gaze in wondering love 
 Upon the dome of heaven. 
 While to the beaming eyes above 
 Are untold beauties given ; 
 Audi to our eyes how fair ascends - 
 Mount Blanca's brow of snow. 
 While morn, in golden veil attends 
 The Alpine pageants glow ; 
 
THE I^niSnSTEY OF THE SUFFERING. 11 
 
 Touches of matchless heAutj hide 
 In many a sylvan dell, 
 Less fair than white waves that glide 
 Around this silver shell. 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF THE SUFFERING. 
 
 1 
 
 ^npJHEEE are various powers — mighty tal- 
 
 ents, loaned to mortals to work for 
 Heaven, withall, in this poor world of ours. 
 Each moving in its own orbit of usefulness 
 or beauty, accomplishing its own peculiar 
 ministry. 
 
 Yet perchance among the many man- 
 sions of moral grandeur reared for the human 
 heart, there is not one which rears prouder 
 towers than that filled by patient, submissive 
 suffering. 
 
 The mind has its triumphs and wide is the 
 sphere of its influence. Learning, power, 
 beauty — all have their appointed work, yet 
 they are not armed with the might — they 
 wear not the diadem of glory which God hath 
 bound about the brow of suffering. 
 
12 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 We speak of misery with pity ; we would 
 alleviate trial and symphathize with affliction ; 
 yet, has Heaven laid all good on one side, all 
 evil on the other? Not so. The sufferer 
 treads a higher range than we, breathes a 
 purer atmosphere and is conversant with the 
 loftiest style of human thought. 
 
 True, the tearful eye, pale cheek and bowed 
 form may seem to speak alone of weakness, 
 decay and death, but look longer into the 
 depths of those calm eyes — read you not 
 there syllables higher than earthly language ? 
 gleams there not lights of strong truth, deep 
 conviction and unearthly energy from the 
 depths of that troubled spirit ? More than 
 this, far back of the trial, half-conscious to the 
 sufferer, glow the rich beams of a peace the 
 world knows not of, like the sunset hiding 
 behind the storm. 
 
 How often, in the presence of some meek 
 sufferer we feel a subduing awe, an atmos- 
 phere of moral grandeur. The world is de- 
 lusive — all is real here ; the world is vain 
 and foolish; here is a wisdom breathed by 
 
THE ATTACK. 13 
 
 Omnipotence : " The golden sceptre of Heav- 
 en has touched this heart before us, and all 
 bow down in this inner court of human sym- 
 pathy." 
 
 THE ATTACK. 
 
 J,isr the confines of Dalmatia, lived, at the 
 ' time our story commences, in an old, 
 
 time-blackened cottage, the widow of a sol- 
 dier, whose sole wealth consisted of her fair- 
 haired child, the beautiful Hertha Wallen- 
 stein. 
 
 Arnold Wallenstein had been a brave man, 
 and served his country well in the wars which 
 the ambitious Frederick was ever waging ; 
 and when, at fifty, death found him on the 
 battfe-field, his piety, and a small, very small 
 pension, became the heritage of the gentle 
 pair, who still lived on in the half ruinous 
 cottage, whose mouldering rafters drooped to 
 the little garden, from which Hertha contrived 
 to procure rose-leaves enough to exchange for 
 
14 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 that luxury, a little tea, wherewith to cheer 
 the desponding hours of her mother. 
 
 On the evening when our story opens, the 
 early twilight and drifting snowflakes had 
 compelled Hertha to lay aside her needle 
 earlier than usual. 
 
 The small table was neatly set forth before 
 a cheerful fire, which glanced on the white 
 forehead of Hertha as she moved with grace- 
 ful activity about the apartment, while the 
 eye of the widow was occasionally lifted from 
 the Bible which rested on her lap, following, 
 with a glance of love, the light, flitting form. 
 
 " I have a strange, dreary feeling to-night, 
 mother dear," she said, " a sadness, almost 
 terror, seems to beset me." 
 
 " Thou art lonely, my love," said the wid- 
 ow. " These sombre woods, and wild wastes 
 of snow are little calculated to cheer a heart 
 young as thine." 
 
 " Hark, mother, was not that a distant 
 horn? " as she flung the hair from her temple, 
 and paused to listen. 
 
 " Thou art listening, dear, for Walter. He 
 
THE ATTACK. 15 
 
 will not be here to-night, for see, how the 
 storm gathers. The very kitty wakes are fly- 
 ing to shelter, and that betokens rough 
 weather." 
 
 At the name of her lover, Hertha's cheek 
 deepened its color, and she turned again to 
 her household duties. In a moment she 
 started. 
 
 " Surely, mother, there are strange sounds 
 in the distance. Thine ear is dull, but mine 
 heard something then like a human cry of 
 pain." 
 
 They were interrupted by the entrance of 
 a young man. His face was flushed and his 
 whole manner was excited, while his fine fea- 
 tures worked with emotion. 
 
 " I come," he said, " to place you in safe- 
 ty," turning to the widow, " Hertha, you 
 must fly, I scarce know whither. The Cos- 
 sacks have attacked the village, at the foot 
 of the pass, and their ruthless cruelty spares 
 neither sex nor age. We have not one mo- 
 ment to lose. They will be here in half an 
 hour. 
 
16 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 As he spoke, he was busy undoing from its 
 place on the wall, where it had been sus- 
 pended since the death of its owner, the 
 short carbine which had once made terrible 
 havoc in these same Cossack ranks. 
 
 The widow, whose cheek had blanched at 
 his tidings, arose calmly, and laid her hand 
 upon his arm. 
 
 " Walter," she said, the sweet voice scarce- 
 ly broke, " leave that weapon. Our trust 
 must not be in earth-steel. A higher arm 
 than thine must defend us. Stop, my son ! '' 
 for still the young man pulled at the thongs 
 that bound it. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " this is madness. I 
 outsped the chamois to secure your safety, 
 leaving bow and buckler behind. The age 
 of miracles is past ! I must have this to de- 
 fend Hertha, if I must not use it for you." 
 
 " Walter," she replied, '' I do not quit this 
 cottage ; neither shall Hertha. Heaven can 
 protect us here. To fly is but to meet those 
 brutes the sooner." 
 
 "Mother, you are wild! Fly, fly to the 
 
THE ATTACK. IT 
 
 forest, while life may yet be saved," he said. 
 A wild, piercing shriek of agony, mingled 
 with yells, which sounded like those of wild 
 beasts, came distinctly born on the breeze. 
 
 Hertha sank, almost fainting, by the side 
 of the widow, whose bloodless cheeks con- 
 fessed her fears. 
 
 "Not yet, unto martyrdom," she said, as 
 she took the sacred volume. 
 
 "You hear!" 
 
 The words were groaned out between the 
 closed teeth of Walter, as the terrible cries 
 came appallingly near. 
 
 " It is now too late ! " and he threw him- 
 self on a settle, burying his face in his hands. 
 " My Hertha, my Hertha ! how can I yield 
 thy life to yonder wolves ? " he groaned. 
 
 Louder and louder rose the cries, while 
 mother and daughter, their arms wound 
 around each other, sat pale as marble stat- 
 ues. 
 
 All was silent in the cottage save the oc- 
 casional murmured prayer of the widow, 
 while the ticking clock marked the minutes, 
 that seemed hours. 
 
18 THE ATTACK. 
 
 " Those cries are becoming distant," and 
 Walter raised his head from the attitude of 
 despair into which he had fallen. " Can it 
 be possible that, slaked with blood, they 
 have left the village ? " 
 
 " Said I not that Heaven would defend 
 us ? " replied the matron. 
 
 Through the long night they sat, and 
 when, at length, the hour told of daylight, 
 still all was darkness. 
 
 Impatient of captivity, Walter opened cau- 
 tiously the barred door. A wall of snow 
 fenced the humble entrance, which had ef- 
 fectually blotted out the existence of the 
 cottage to those without. 
 
 "You were right, mother," he said, "a 
 better defence than the rusty carbine has 
 shielded your head." 
 
 It was some hours before he could make 
 his way through the marble drift, and when, 
 at length, he struggled down the path, he 
 was soon met by a detachment of Prussian 
 soldiers, whose uniform of green was fair to 
 him as the wings of angels. 
 
THE ATTACK. 19 
 
 Arrived at the village, whose beauty had 
 long lured the summer traveller, blackened 
 walls, and blood-stained ruins told its terrible 
 fate. The stiffened forms of its late inhab- 
 itants lay here and there ; the girl clinging 
 in death to the white haired sire. Not a 
 single house was spared. Even over the 
 frozen brook the trampled snow was mingled 
 with a crimson stain, while the few modest 
 ornaments that decked the dwelling of the 
 pastor, were strewn in mocker}^ among the 
 smoking ruins. 
 
 It was long ere Widow Wallenstein could 
 leave her dwelling, now guarded by the im- 
 perial troops ; and when, at last, she passed 
 in her way to greater security, the home of 
 her youth, she raised her eyes, devoutly say- 
 ing, 
 
 " The Lord is a defence." 
 
20 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 Around the towers of Thebes the night has drooped her 
 
 sable wing, 
 Canopied with darkness, fold the pillow of a king. 
 That day, in anger fierce, he bade the prophets of the 
 
 Lord, 
 No more, in Heliopolis, to list a monarch's word. 
 Death is their doom — if they shall dare again to seek 
 
 bis face ; 
 Death is the doom ! the angels now have sealed the day 
 
 of grace. 
 •Tis midnight — and on rapid wing the angel herald flies — 
 In lowly tent and palace hall the best beloved dies. 
 Li peaceful Goshen's balmy vales he sheathes his flaming 
 
 sword, 
 For door and lintel, crimsoned there, are guarded by his 
 
 God. 
 The angel stoops to listen to the Hallel's holy strain. 
 That prays he may pass over, where the chosen lamb is 
 
 slain. 
 He spreads his mighty pinions — each mother clasps her 
 
 son. 
 As passing over Israel, he wings to splendid On. 
 Here, bloodless, stands the portal-arch ; the angel enters 
 
 there — 
 
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 21 
 
 A queenly mother starts from sleep, and tears her raven 
 
 hair ; 
 From Pharaoh's brow, the haughty frown in sorrow wild 
 
 has fled, 
 For Egypt's pride, his princely boy, his eldest-born, is 
 
 dead ! 
 Through Egypt's realm a cry ascends, — the beautiful are 
 
 gone. 
 And infants fair from many a mother's bleeding heart are 
 
 torn ! 
 The warder at the palace gates, bows low his plumed 
 
 head, 
 As by him swift, on mission wing, the herald angel sped. 
 The slaves to her bare bosom clasps her bright and beau- 
 teous boy. 
 His fainting head she strives to stay, — he was her sunset 
 
 joy; 
 
 And priestly forms in agony bend o'er the young and fair, 
 And wildly cry to Egypt's gods their best beloved to 
 
 spare, 
 While blood-stained robe, and magic ring, and severed 
 
 locks declare 
 How more than unavaihng they deem their anguished 
 
 prayer. 
 On, speeds the mighty vengeance! the murmured wail 
 
 ascends 
 As o'er a slaughtered little one each dark-browed mother 
 
 bends. 
 Even in the green pastures sinks down the snowy lamb, 
 And sobs in dying agony beside its meek-eyed dam. 
 
22 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 The sun on rebel Egypt in morning splendor broke, 
 
 But many a long-laslied lid, its beams no more to gladness 
 woke. 
 
 Bearing the loved ones of the heart move many a mourn- 
 ing train 
 
 On to the Nile's still waters, across the burning plain ; 
 
 And as the bright and flashing waves the youthful corpses 
 bear — 
 
 The slaughtered infants of the Nile seem hovering in the 
 air: 
 
 And Pharaoh, who to Cheop's pile his best beloved hath 
 given. 
 
 Must in the wave its diadem soon render back to heaven. 
 
 From heaven rings — as thou hast done, it shall be done 
 to thee — 
 
 As the last plumed helmet sinks beneath the gurgling sea. 
 
ENDURANCE. 23 
 
 ENDURANCE. 
 
 fjHE quality of meeting, with settled calm- 
 , ness and fortitude, the difficulties and 
 
 trials of life, is, perhaps, as rare as it is valu- 
 able. Life is a checkered scene, and it has 
 many sweet oases scattered along its path ; 
 there are likewise narrow defiles, sharp rocks, 
 and steep precipices, to scale which, requires 
 a steady eye and intrepid heart. 
 
 Those periods of existence which are un- 
 marked by difficulty, are passed over quickly, 
 or rather, glide by us with an imperceptible 
 tread ; while the emergency which is the 
 real, as well as the severest test of character, 
 is sure to come, presenting obstacles and in- 
 citing to efforts which only the heart nerved 
 to endurance can meet with composure. 
 
 We speak of the great. Who are they ? 
 The benefactors of mankind, who have stood 
 foremost in life's battle, are undoubtedly en- 
 
24 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 titled to the name ; yet there are a host of 
 nameless heroes, who, perchance, in the eye 
 of Heaven, are crowned with chaplets greener 
 than they; those who have met difficulties, 
 fears, discouragements, and day after day 
 grappled with, silently endured and overcame 
 them. 
 
 There is something morally sublime in the 
 spectacle of a brave heart, encompassed by a 
 sea of trials, yet relying upon Heaven and 
 its own nobleness, bearing calmly ; and it 
 presents a clue to what we call the dark deal- 
 ings of Providence, that its sternest disci- 
 pline is often reserved for those whose pa- 
 tience is most proof. Many a character 
 which would have remained unknown, has 
 by this means been presented as a shining 
 light before the eyes of others, or rather, has 
 been formed — cut as the diamond stone, 
 from the quarries of its darkened nature, by 
 sharp touches of adversity. 
 
 This valuable trait of character, far from 
 being formed, as many suppose, by the pres- 
 sure of great calamities, is nourished an«1 
 
ENDURAJSrCE. 25 
 
 supported by the recurrence of those daily 
 and petty trials which are more or less the 
 lot of all. The meek bearing of an injury, 
 the support of some lonely trial, form the 
 pedestal which upholds the " column of true 
 majesty " in our nature. 
 
 Vain would it be to secure for the young 
 the most affluent gifts of fortune, the rarest 
 endowments of education, or hosts of friends, 
 while they are strangers to this element of 
 character ; none can help us, as we can help 
 ourselves, and the heart which ever leans on 
 others for support and comfort, has but a 
 miserable chance of happiness or usefulness. 
 Teach the young the mighty lesson to bear, 
 and thereby they are instructed to do ; and 
 when the day of trial comes, a firm hand is 
 laid upon the helm, and a patient spirit looks 
 up to Heaven for deliverance. 
 
 This virtue formed a mighty element of 
 character in the lives of Franklin, Howard, 
 and all who have laid a giant hand on the 
 difficulties " of life. Much of life may pass 
 as a calm, summer day ; but the wise mariner 
 
26 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 puts out to sea with chart and compass, as 
 well as with sail spread to the favoring 
 breeze ; and by constant sounding, searches 
 for the hidden rock. And thus, while the 
 sunshine of prosperity gilds the surface of 
 character, it is the storm alone which tests 
 its real strength, conducing most to the per- 
 manent good of man, and the glory of God, 
 
 THE USE OF TALENTS. 
 
 'AS the reader reflected, that the Lord 
 ij gave to each servant, at least, one 
 
 precious gift — one talent. Has it occurred 
 to him that of all the many million servants, 
 there is not one that has not some treasure 
 wherewith he may traffic for Heaven ? 
 
 The knowledge of the fact of having re- 
 ceived a talent, adds greatly to the power of 
 rightly improving it ; the feeling of having 
 received a trust, in every honorable mind 
 awakes integrity, decision, effort ; and this 
 
THE USE OF TALENTS. 27 
 
 truth, received into the mind and retained 
 there, that some gift is lodged in every 
 bosoin, some power in every soul, would 
 nerve to exertions and animate to success, 
 of which one might think themselves in- 
 capable. 
 
 The thought that an achievement is possi- 
 ble, produces the effect of which it. is the 
 cause; the conviction that we have the 
 means within our reach of attaining an 
 object, leads to ultimate success. 
 
 This conviction ploughed for Columbus a 
 path across the deep, and landed him in the 
 wished-for haven ; this has brought forms of 
 life-like beauty from the cold marble ; has 
 caused visions of transcendant loveliness to 
 float across the canvas, and inanimate nature, 
 moulded by the thought that a gift was be- 
 stowed, has leaped into creations of con- 
 summate perfection. 
 
 The belief that each is the recipient of 
 some great and beautiful gift ; some talent 
 for which account must be rendered, would 
 lead to much wisdom in the choice of pro- 
 
28 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 fessions for the young, and to much economy 
 in the use of time. The mind readily grasps 
 that for which it is fitted by nature ; the 
 knowledge of it is easily acquired, and its 
 practice yields continual pleasure ; whereas 
 the faculties, in a direction to which they are 
 forced, are dull and heavy, and life passes 
 constant constraint and discontent. 
 
 Let every parent consider that his child 
 has a talent for music, for painting, for 
 architecture, or for domestic economy ; and 
 against their will, let the world lose a work- 
 ing hand, and gain a working mind, or spoil 
 a fine lady in making a useful woman. 
 
 The knowledge that God has bestowed 
 upon every human mind a peculiar adapta- 
 tion to some particular subject ; powers and 
 faculties fitted in a high degree for some con- 
 genial object, will, of itself, carry the soul a 
 flight above others in the pursuit of it. 
 
 That which is regarded as the " ten talents 
 of genius," is often little more than one 
 moderate talent improved by industry; 
 winged by love of its labor, urged on little 
 
THE USE OF TALENTS. 29 
 
 by little, it makes .its way, it gains on its 
 course, and is continually rewarded by added 
 gifts and opportunities of usefulness. 
 
 This one talent often lies by in indolence, 
 and buried deep under a weight of earthly 
 cares, which would disappear, were it but 
 used. 
 
 Draw but the hidden treasure from its 
 envelope. Ask yourself the question : '' For 
 what has Providence peculiarly fitted me ? " 
 And then give yourself to the work with 
 your whole energy, and give not over the 
 pursuit of some worthy object, by means of 
 those powers which you, and perhaps none 
 so well as you possess. 
 
 But this subject also includes opportuni- 
 ties as well as gifts of intellect or heart. 
 God, who gives the mental talent, gives also 
 opportunities for its development ; and it is 
 interesting, in this connection, to watch life 
 and perceive how the shepherd, by gathering 
 pebbles from the brook of Bethlelem, and 
 hurling them successfully against the lion 
 which attacks him, is thus taught by his 
 
30 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 God to defend his people ; and how Luther, 
 the poor monk, whose efforts are humbly 
 given to dust and to arrauge a library, finds 
 arguments on its shelves for a reformation. 
 
 Thus it will ever be that He, who bestows 
 the gift, will make a way in which we may 
 traffic with the same ; happy they who appre- 
 ciate the gift and seize the opportunity for its 
 use ; to such, shall, indeed be added, '' the 
 plume to the wing, the gem to the crown, 
 the city to the sceptre I " 
 
 ANCHORED. 
 
 You say that it is not able, 
 Faith, in the surges of life, 
 
 To hold, like a gallant cable, 
 In the billows' angry strife. 
 
 You say, when the winds are sleeping, 
 And the glassy wave is still, 
 
 The heart may trust to its keeping. 
 But not in the days of ill ; — 
 
 That when the surges dashing. 
 Roll the angry waves around, 
 
ANCHOEED. 31 
 
 Faith parts its cable, crashing, 
 The wreck is fast aground. 
 
 You say, but after the shipwreck, 
 
 What help in the iron thews ? 
 Still true to the broken hawser, 
 
 Deep down ' mid the sea-weed and ooze. 
 
 There are who have known while the breaker 
 
 Was washing the deck amain, 
 The hand of the mighty Maker 
 
 Was grasping the broken chain. 
 
 Though plank from plank was riven. 
 And the mast had crashed o'er the side. 
 
 The anchor was moored in heaven. 
 And the wreck must stem the tide. 
 
 Is it better ? one spar of memory 
 
 To the billow-beaten crew, 
 Than the cheer of the heavenly life-boat, 
 
 " Fear not, I will bear you through ! " 
 
 The promise that rings to landward. 
 
 Through all this darkness a-nd pain ; 
 The narrow ridge in the graveyard, 
 
 Blooming, shall open again ; — 
 
 And yours, to be parted never, 
 
 With its beauty of deathless hair. 
 By your side to move forever, — 
 
 An angel head bends there. 
 
SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 Death is the foam of the billow. 
 
 Death is the roar of the tide ; 
 Faith sweeps like a bending willow, 
 
 Fast moored to the other side. 
 
 Think not thy cable parted, 
 
 See it flash through the broken spray ; 
 Each plank in the ship, though started, 
 
 Shall ride in the golden bay. 
 
 And there, with a joyous greeting, 
 Is the beautiful, deathless brow, 
 
 At rest, while the storm you where beating,- 
 That sleeps in the distance now. 
 
 CULTIVATION OF THE INTELLECT. 
 
 ^Y the cultivation of the intellect, is not 
 ^■^ intended those artificial refinements of 
 society, and elaborate accomplishments which 
 are witiiin the reach of but comparatively- 
 few, but rather those solid foundations of 
 useful knowledge and that enlightened mind 
 which are equally desirable, as they are with- 
 in the reach of all. 
 
 But particularly is it desirable that the fe- 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE INTELLECT. 33 
 
 male heart, enlarged by charity, should be 
 directed by an intelligent and active mind — 
 a mind accustomed to enlarged and just 
 modes of thinking ; capable of directing the 
 young and the ignorant with whom her posi- 
 tion throws her in contact. 
 
 Unconnected with a sound judgment, a 
 sensibility so tremblingly alive that it renders 
 itself and all around it uncomfortable — 
 much more an effected love of the beautiful, 
 are sure to tire and render home, which 
 should be the centre of earthly interest, dull 
 and unattractive ; and yet how few females 
 are there, comparatively, whose minds are 
 equal to draw a deduction or to carry on an 
 argument on the high and sublime truths 
 with which, as rational beings, they . are 
 connected. 
 
 There are those so unhappily mistaken as 
 to suppose that a cultivated understanding is 
 unnecessary for a woman, at least, that it di- 
 minishes in some degree that humility and 
 modesty which are her 'chief charms. Is 
 then, the Moslem right ? and should all which 
 
34 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 is lofty and ennobling be confined to those 
 who least need it ? No ! mind was given to 
 woman, and with the responsibility and duty 
 of cultivating it ; to woman is committed in 
 a good degree the moral government of the 
 world, and therefore a high order of attain- 
 ment should mark that being who has its 
 moral moulding. 
 
 The next point for consideration is what 
 studies — what pursuits are the easiest, the 
 surest and the most general means towards 
 the attainment of an end so desirable. 
 
 Without pausing to rest the argument 
 upon the study of the sciences or a general 
 acquaintance with belles-letters, which, un- 
 questionably are as important for females, or 
 nearly so, as for the other sex, we should 
 hasten to enter a field with which the villa- 
 ger and the princes are alike surrounded ; to 
 pierce a mine, whose flashing glories gem, 
 alike, the brow of the humble and the high. 
 
 The Volume of Inspiration spreads its 
 transcendent page alike before the eyes of 
 all, and we contend that the mind, set to 
 
CULTIVATION OF THE mTELLECT. 35 
 
 grapple with its high and momentous truths, 
 can never again be dwarfed to its former ig- 
 norance ; take, for instance, the eternity of 
 God, as the standard to which we would 
 tower the intellect, and you extend it in the 
 vain attempt to grasp the immensity of the 
 thoug^ht. 
 
 There is, also, another fact, connected with 
 the study of Scripture, which renders it the 
 fitting library of the young, as well as the 
 exhaustless treasure of the aged ; it is the 
 extreme beauty of its conceptions, united 
 with the grandeur of its language ; let this 
 stand as an example : " He that inhabiteth 
 the praise of Israel ; " surely, any mind, alive, 
 in the least, to the truly sublime and beauti- 
 ful, cannot but muse in mute admiration at 
 the figure, wdiich makes the lofty chants of 
 adoration the holy pavilion of the Deity ; and 
 we contend, that the thought which buds in 
 the mind from such seed as this, must needs 
 be inimitable and pure. 
 
 It may seem trite and common-place advice 
 to send all to the Bible, for is not the Bible 
 
36 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 in the hands of all ? yes, but how few study 
 it ! Perused carelessly, it perhaps does little 
 but add condemnation to the reader ; for it is 
 irreverance to read it carelessly ; but deeply 
 studied, it is a map of light, unfolding laby- 
 rinths of length and glory far into the limit- 
 less fields of eternity. Such effects will — 
 must follow the study of the Word of God ; 
 add to this an intelligent observation of the 
 beauties of creation, and an awakened sensi- 
 bility to all, the mind will take a wide range, 
 and be tuned to a lofty key ; sources of re- 
 fined pleasure will be opened to those who 
 have received the benefit of educational cul- 
 ture, and a world of satisfaction, pure and 
 high, will open before the minds of all. 
 
ALONE. 37 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 Alone by the sea-shore, alone by the lake, 
 Alone in the desert or African brake : 
 By Thebe's ruined arches, or Babylon's stone, 
 Where the slow floating eagle shrieks ever alone. 
 
 There are sylvan retreats that the Hermit has sought, 
 There are rocks where the chamois the hunter has taught, 
 But earth holds no desolate corner apart 
 So lonely, so sad as a desolate heart. 
 
 Alone in the crowd, as the Jordan's blue wave 
 Cuts the dark waters by it, but only to lave 
 His waters alone to the far, distant sea, 
 MingUng, yet separate — fettered, yet free. 
 
 We may meet on the mountain, may meet in the glen, 
 In the kindness, compassion and kindred of men : 
 But where, in the world's crowded mart, shall we find 
 
 There's a world all aglow with all beautiful thoughts, 
 There feeling and memory and sympathy bright 
 Cluster and linger and glitter, and seem 
 Like the vistas of light in a glorious dream. 
 
0« SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 And there, though in solitude, joyous we live 
 In peace, that the Author of mercy can give, 
 And joys, to the spirit full often atone — 
 Who walks with his God can be never alone. 
 
 THE PRIZE. 
 
 The last canvass had separated the gentry 
 of the neighborhood of Wildersly, and it 
 was fast becoming a painful question by what 
 means they should again be brought to a 
 right feeling. At length the happy expedi- 
 ent of an archery meeting was hit upon, and 
 a committee appointed to confer upon the 
 happy theme. Great was the joy of the 
 stately mammas and bright-eyed daughters 
 of Wildersly ; but as it was not to them, but 
 to their grave papas, that the sage question 
 was deferred, it progressed more slowly than 
 the zealous wished. 
 
 Subtle points came up to be disputed at 
 the club dinner. First, who should be in- 
 vited ; and as it was to be a thoroughly re- 
 
THE PEIZE. 39 
 
 spectable affair, none but undoubted gentry- 
 were to be admitted. Then the question 
 came up among the squires, " What is a gen- 
 tleman ? " 
 
 Some one defines it one who has plenty of 
 money. Another, '' He who has retired from 
 business ten years." 
 
 But as the first would admit Mr. Shorts, 
 whom no one could endure, and the second 
 would exclude General Vendables, who had 
 never been in business, but who was univer- 
 sally acknowledged as an undoubted gentle- 
 man, the committee were thrown on their 
 own resources. 
 
 There were, moreover, sundry little hates ; 
 bitter as those of Highlanders, and handed 
 down with the faithfulness of the Capulets, 
 to be tenderly dealt with. Among these pri- 
 vate feuds were those of the Vendables and 
 Browns, which had increased in the same 
 ratio that the fine old trees of the Vendables 
 had changed owners, passing into the hands 
 of the more fortunate Mr. Brown, whose dis- 
 play of mere wealth was a sharp thorn in 
 the side of his aristocratic neighbor. 
 
40 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 At the time our story opens the old feud 
 had descended, as a sort of heirloom, to Gen- 
 eral Aubrey Vendables, who had just re- 
 turned from foreign service on leave of 
 absence. 
 
 Great was the joy of Lucy, the sister of 
 our hero, as the archery meeting drew nigh ; 
 and loud was she in praises of her friend 
 Emmeline Brown, as she strolled with her 
 brother beneath the fine old oaks of the 
 manse. 
 
 " I cannot think," exclaimed Aubrey, on 
 one of these occasions, " how it is these 
 Browns have so risen in favor ? Pray, does 
 Miss Emmeline inherit her father's want of 
 beauty, or her mother's vulgarity ? " 
 
 "You deserve not to be answered," re- 
 plied Lucy, a tear trembling in her eye. 
 " Emmeline is just a rosebud." 
 
 " Of the cabbage species, I presume," re- 
 plied the general. 
 
 Lucy drew her arm from his, and for once 
 was really provoked with her handsome 
 brother. 
 
THE PRIZE. 41 
 
 " Seriously, Lucy, tell me why it is that 
 my mother and yourself are determiuecl so 
 spitefully to like these Browns. I thought 
 we had all agreed to hate them." 
 
 " Yes, brother, but when papa died, there 
 was that lawsuit. Mr. Brown dropped it at 
 once." 
 
 "Might be policy," was the curt reply. 
 
 " Then the butler was dishonest, and Mr. 
 Brown defended mamma's rights ; and when 
 the man was condemned, at our entreaty, 
 mitigated his sentence." 
 
 " That showed him merciful," replied 
 Aubrey. 
 
 " Really, Aubrey, you are too bad ! Then 
 mamma had the quinsy, and Mr. Brown 
 mounted his fleetest horse, and went miles 
 for the physician who saved her life." 
 
 "lam vanquished — lean say no more," 
 
 said the general. " But^ dear Lucy, do not 
 
 press your sweet Emmeline upon my notice." 
 
 Lucy blushed and was silent. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 The morning of the archery meeting dawned 
 
42 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 beautifully, and at an early hour the grounds 
 of Walton Hall were thronged with groups 
 of the young people of the vicinity. Green 
 and silver was the not unbecoming costume 
 of the occasion ; and young girls in delicate 
 fabrics, and their stately mothers in brocade 
 and pearl jewelry, might be seen threading 
 the avenues of the park. 
 
 As Vendables greeted the lord of the 
 manor, who was an old friend of his father, 
 he was somewhat disturbed by a slap on the 
 shoulder, and turning, beheld his old enemy, 
 Mr. Brown. Constraining himself, he re- 
 turned the rude shake of the hand, with 
 mere cold politeness bowing to Mrs. Brown, 
 who, in rouge and good humor, looked like a 
 full-blown peony. At a little distance, as if 
 retreating from notice, stood a beautiful girl. 
 The soft brown hair thrown back from a 
 faultless forehead, the blue e^^es veiled by 
 their long lashes, and the sweet expression 
 of the lips, betokened a heart kind and true. 
 Her dress was of the palest shade of green 
 silk, and silver acorns were woven as its 
 
THE PRIZE. 43 
 
 finish. A garland of oak leaves was twisted 
 in her hair, and at her side hung a small sil- 
 ver quiver. Aubery colored as Lucy pre- 
 sented him to her friend, and he soon re- 
 turned to greet Mr. Brown more cordially. 
 
 Among the competitors for the prize it was 
 soon found none were to be named with 
 Lucy and her friend ; and loud and long was 
 the applause as the arrow of Emmeline 
 struck that of Lucy within the ring. The 
 prize was to be awarded after a slight colla- 
 tion, and as competitors, Lucy and Emmeline 
 alone remained. 
 
 When all were again gathered on the 
 green, Emmeline could not be found ; and 
 Lucy, declaring that she would not take ad- 
 vantage of this circumstance, wandered to 
 the verge of the forest, where an artificial 
 cascade flung its music on the air. Seated 
 on the spreading root of an aged oak, she 
 here found her friend, and the two, happy in 
 each other's company, soon forgot their mock 
 conflict. 
 
 " O Lucy, you dear good girl ! How kind 
 
44 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 of you to send my dress ; and your felicitous 
 taste is so cliarming. I have not yet ex- 
 pressed the obligation I am under." 
 
 " Not nearly as lovely as the roses you sent 
 mother last spring, for which I leave Aubrey 
 to thank you, as he is coming this way." 
 
 " The bearer of good tidings, fair ladies," 
 he said, turning in his hand a beautiful rich- 
 ly-chased silver arrow, which he presented, 
 with a bow, to Emmeline. 
 
 " O no," she said, " Lucy was the success- 
 ful candidate. I retired from the field." 
 
 " Nevertheless, young lady, it has pleased 
 the judges to award the first prize to you ; 
 but as Lucy was second only to yourself, 
 she also has an arrow." And he plunged a 
 similar weapon through the golden locks of 
 his sister. 
 
 " Really, general, I cannot receive it," 
 Emmeline replied. " It is not just." 
 
 " Let your father settle the point," he re- 
 plied. " I also shall claim a prize ! " and he 
 drew her reluctant arm within his own. 
 " Mr. Brown," he said, approaching the old 
 
THE EUINS OF POMPEn. 45 
 
 gentleman, who, weary with the labors of 
 the day, was sitting alone, " your daughter 
 refuses the prize. "Will you bestow it upon 
 me, but with it the hand that holds it ? " 
 
 Mr. Brown looked from one to the other ; 
 then, with a smile lighting his benevolent 
 face, placed the hand of Emmeline in that 
 of Vendables. 
 
 THE RUINS OF POMPEII. 
 
 Proud city of the dead ! thy shadowy glory 
 Steals sadly from the past ; a spectral thing : 
 
 Long had the sandal of the world pressed o'er thee, 
 While calmly wrapped beneath obli\ion's wing — 
 
 Lost to the rival legions o'er thy head, 
 
 Rearing high arches o'er thy sleeping dead! 
 
 Rising, at length, above the funeral pall, 
 Speaking, in trumpet tones, ^^ Mortality ! " 
 
 Telling the nations they shall likewise fall 
 In all the purple of their majesty, 
 
 And banners blazoned with imperial pride 
 
 Flash and then sink beneath oblivion's tide. 
 
46 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 Here is the dint the gilded cliariot made, 
 As, thundering o'er thy ways, tlie victor came ; 
 
 And there tlie burden of tlie slave is laid, 
 Who lived unknown, and found in death a name ; 
 
 And there the mother who, in agony, 
 
 Would clasp her children for eternity. 
 
 Here stands the column speaking Caesar's pride, 
 And there the dwelling of deep poverty ; 
 
 The marble roof where Roman matron died, 
 When dark and darker the Italian sky 
 
 Frowned, while Jehovah, in a fiery car, 
 
 Triumphed o'er Jove, and drove his demon crew afar. 
 
 Mighty in wisdom, did thy Pliny stand. 
 Watching the heayings of that blackened sea. 
 
 Scorching and withering the vine-clad land, 
 Bow his high head, and lay him down with thee. 
 
 And o'er thy grave, his monumental name 
 
 Erect, as funeral trophy to thy fame ? 
 
 Amid thy columns grand, and broken arches, 
 Flashes the splendor of a bygone age ; 
 
 With sandalled tread the Roman legion marches, 
 Where History unrolls her burning page. 
 
 The classic toga and the glittering helm. 
 Ages of ruin cannot yet o'erwhelm. 
 
 The Dacian captive with his calm, pale face. 
 His arm unbound to deal the deathly blow. 
 Or Christian gladiator, wlio can trace. 
 
ENEEGY. 47 
 
 Neither in savage nor in Greek a foe, 
 Thy arena's blood-stained pavement meekly trod, 
 Firm in the faith and calmly died for God. 
 
 Dark mistress of the world! thy jewelled brow 
 
 Still flashes its tiara worn and dim, 
 And from its time-stained circlet, broken now, 
 
 In martyr's blood its jewels seem to swim ; 
 And as we muse thy strange stone tablet's o'er, 
 Even pity bids thee sleep and wake no more. 
 
 ENERGY. 
 
 llpO no purpose are the highest talents be- 
 wj stowed, if energy is wanted in the em- 
 ployment of them. Energy is to the human 
 mind, the same as the conducting belt is to 
 machiner}^ ; it links the active power with 
 the useful purpose, making the man mighty 
 for good. 
 
 If sloth a<nd inactivity are suffered to clog 
 the spirits and benumb the understanding, 
 it is in vain that the rarest opportunities 
 combine with brightest intellectual graces, 
 no fruit will ever be harvested — nay, no 
 
48 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 harvest of thought will ever adorn the bar- 
 ren, useless life ; a mere mechanical move- 
 ment in the round of duty ; doing, because 
 compelled by necessity, is all which such a 
 state of mind can produce. 
 
 But let energy enter the heart and hand, 
 and the pulses beat with a nobler bound ; life 
 is beheld as a rare opportunity for doing 
 good — acting for the future^ a golden field 
 of unreaped purposes waving in the light of 
 eternity. Duties are performed with alacrity ; 
 difficulties are grappled with a master-spirit ; 
 even positive misfortunes are borne with an 
 easy cheerfulness. The heart is at ease, 
 moulding circumstances which would crush 
 others ; only enobled by those trials which 
 are the appointed discipline and education of 
 a mighty spirit. In meek dependence upon 
 Providence the energetic spirit trusts ; in 
 firm reliance on its own efforts it executes, 
 and raises from the barren rock of Adversity 
 a little garden of thoughts and purposes and 
 noble deeds, all smiling under its life-giving 
 power. 
 
equality! 49 
 
 Energy has cut to the heart of the earth, 
 and bound its ribs in its own diadem. 
 Energy has united the earth, long divided for 
 want of it, while continents arose at its bid- 
 ding : it has trodden, as it were, the arches 
 of Heaven, gazed down on the rainbow, 
 counting its dyes ; chained the lightning to 
 its car, and bade it go, its willing, speaking 
 messenger ; but greater still — it has taught 
 the tried heart to look up to the God who 
 made it, and overcome the evils of this 
 troublesome life. 
 
 EQUALITY. 
 
 fjHAT all are created free and equal is a 
 , maxim rather expressed than felt, and 
 
 while all concur in admiring the sentiment, 
 almost all render it practically useless. 
 
 Inherent nobility is the exploded error of 
 the old world ; that the son should be great 
 because his father was, has been too often 
 contradicted by his being a fool. Some 
 
50 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 " Village Hampden," great in conscious right, 
 meets the imbecile prince, curbs his tyrannic 
 power, and wrests forever from him the 
 argument that the mighty are great in virtue 
 of their pedigree. 
 
 While it is ordered ia the dispensation of 
 Providence that some should rule and some 
 should obey, it is equally manifested by those 
 dispensations that '' righteousness exalteth 
 a people," that " the diligent shall bear 
 rule," but " the slothful shall be under 
 tribute." 
 
 In spite of the benign influence of repub- 
 lican institutions, the diligent observer must 
 perceive a growing degree of adultation paid 
 to wealth and the trappings of success. 
 " The poor man by his wisdom may deliver 
 the city," yet it is counted genteel not to 
 remember that same poor man. Merit in a 
 chariot is heralded by public applause; but 
 merit in a plain garb is hardly allowed foot- 
 hold among the sternest difficulties of life. 
 
 Now, in contradistinction to this, Provi- 
 dence often parts the ranks of ostentatious 
 
EQUALITY. 51 
 
 nothingness, to make a way to the front for 
 the meek, the wise, and the good. Like a 
 kind father, distributing justly to his chil- 
 dren, Heaven has given to each some special 
 gift. True, the gift may be unknown to the 
 possessor, "wrapt in a napkin," or worse, 
 misused ; but it is nevertheless a gift which, 
 were it drawn forth and put to proper inter- 
 est, would redound to the glory of the Giver, 
 and the good of man. 
 
 Viewed in this light, society presents a 
 different surface from that which modern 
 taste and modern manners has assigned. 
 We feel the man is to be valued for what he 
 is, not for what he possesses ; except as 
 those possessions mark his industry, genius, 
 or integrity. 
 
 Virtue is the " image and superscription 
 of Heaven," and when we honor it we honor 
 God; but fortune is but the Caesar of this 
 world, and we render it fitting homage when 
 we treat it with indifference. 
 
52 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 The Christmas chimes 
 
 Of olden times, 
 Through leafless branches sigh and quiver, 
 
 And frost-work bright, 
 
 And soft moonlight, 
 A-down the forest arches shiver. 
 
 The midnight sky- 
 Is jewelled high, 
 "Wearing a cornet of glory; 
 
 While orbs of Are 
 
 And angel's lyre. 
 Bring forth to-night the Bethlehem story. 
 
 The chancel wide 
 
 Is wreathed in pride. 
 And the dim aisles like pine groves whisper; 
 
 While silvery note 
 
 And anthems float 
 Through the high dome like angels' vesper. 
 
 And earth to-night 
 
 Is fair and white. 
 With fleecy bridal-veil adorning; 
 
 Brake, bush and bower, 
 
 Spire and tower. 
 Waiting the flashing joy of morning. 
 
CEGRISTMAS. 63 
 
 Ye bright orbs say 
 
 Which is the ray 
 That over Bethlehem burned in beauty; 
 
 That o'er the plain 
 
 Drew princely train, 
 To own their king in lowly duty ? 
 
 And did the moon 
 
 At midnight's noon 
 Look then as now, so calm and holy ? 
 
 While angel's wing 
 
 And welcoming, 
 Soft sank beside the manger lowly. 
 
 The same are they 
 
 As bright to-day 
 As when *' to us a Son was given ! " 
 
 Be our refrain 
 
 The angel strain — 
 ** Good will to man and peace from Heaven ; " 
 
 Light the glad hearth, 
 
 Through joyous earth. 
 While merry Christmas bells are ringing; 
 
 Spread high the feast 
 
 Though poor the guest. 
 For earth with angels now is singing 
 
 V:^^^\^^'' 
 
64 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 THE VALUE OF TIME. 
 
 ^F all the possessions which man can call 
 his own, none is so little estimated and 
 so fleeting as time. As if to impress with 
 more emphasis its great worth, one lonely 
 moment is granted and no more, at once. 
 However wisely persons may judge respect- 
 ing the whole of life — whatever calculations 
 they make for its improvement of the several 
 parts of wliich life is made — all are inclined 
 to be prodigal. Well has it been remarked 
 by the philosopher: "That to many, time 
 appears as a vast desert, with here and there 
 an oasis scattered up and down, bearing no 
 proportion to lonely wastes over which they 
 must travel. Hence the inconsistency of 
 wishing away days and weeks, that the de- 
 sired situation may be gained. Vainly will 
 any rightly estimate time, who are not care- 
 ful of its hours and minutes. Those spare 
 
THE VALUE OP TIME. 55 
 
 moments which are ever recurring in the 
 midst of the most crowded occupations are 
 often that upon which the moral of life turns. 
 The habit of procrastination — of deferring 
 to 'a more convenient, the duties and enter- 
 prises of life — is one of the most mischiev- 
 ous which can possess the mind. That period 
 of settled leisure seldom or never arrives, 
 and even if old age should offer such a calm, 
 is its enfeebled powers, its gathering infirmi- 
 ties, proper antecedents for any great work ? 
 The heart that rightly values time, that 
 daily considers for what purpose life is given, 
 will devote it, as it passes, to the highest, 
 noblest ends. Among its fitting employ- 
 ments are the acquisition of knowledge and 
 the pursuit of virtue ; aud by slow and 
 almost imperceptible degrees, the traveller 
 advances in both these paths. Each day 
 some new truth added, some attainment 
 made in excellence is the only way to make 
 time the treasury which it is to every well- 
 balanced mind. 
 
 To have an end — a life-purpose high and 
 
56 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 holy, such as shall glorify God and benefit 
 man, is an essential, almost a lonely element 
 of happiness. To feel that the hours as they 
 pass, are filled with worthy purposes, and 
 hastening forward a desired end — is, of it- 
 self, a world of pure joy. Virtue is not only 
 its own reward ; but like a pure stream, it 
 leaves beauty and prosperity in its path, and 
 hours redeemed from the past, given to the 
 excellent, have a powerful and fertilizing 
 effect upon our future life. The restlessness 
 of a heart forever seeking novelty, the de- 
 sire of fame, and the thirst for fleeting 
 pleasures, is checked in a mind which is ever 
 at home in its duties, that sees hfe too, made 
 of parts, and beholds in every opportunity, 
 a fresh call to exertion. The hours never 
 hang wearily upon their hands, who place 
 upon this heavenly talent its fitting value. 
 They prize them as the garner of future joy, 
 the witnesses for or against them. To such, 
 a day is a loan, to trade for heaven with ; in 
 it they can, perhaps, bind up some bleeding 
 heart, right some injustice, or further some 
 
THE VALUE OF TIME. 57 
 
 worthy cause, and while the vain and idle 
 complain of slow progress, they seize, im- 
 prove, and multiply their hours. But in no 
 season of life does this truth speak with a 
 voice so eloquent as in youth. In youth the 
 calls to duty are strongest, the encourage- 
 ments to effort brightest ; and if youth is 
 thus used as time that must be accounted 
 for, the honors and influence of more ad- 
 vanced life will be the natural results. 
 Every season of life filled by its appointed 
 duty, will leave the mind that true calm 
 and leisure of soul in which alone is found 
 real peace. 
 
68 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 All thy leaves of fading fern, 
 Sleeping Poet deck thy um ! 
 All thy brilliant, burning thought, 
 To thy sepulchre are brought. 
 
 Did thy Lord, in mercy free 
 With ten talents dower thee 
 Like a beacon's light to burn — 
 Gentle, brilliant Fanny Fern ! 
 
 Thine the glance — the Prophet's eye 
 Moral, mental worth to spy; 
 Thine the tongue, with Prophet's fire, 
 Tuning words like well-strung lyre. 
 
 Who, with radiant thoughts, like thee, 
 With thy own wi},d witchery 
 Could make beautiful and true 
 Sparkle like the Summer dew? 
 
 Through the land soft requiems sigh 
 When its gifted daughters die ; 
 When such minds as Parton's fail. 
 Who shall wear the prophet-veil? 
 
 Drinking at the foxmtain deep, 
 With thy sister-poets sleep, 
 While the fern leaves grow o'er thee, 
 Carey and sweet Signoumey. 
 
MORAL EXCELLENCE. 59 
 
 God, that sweeps the human soul, 
 And the burning thoughts control, 
 While He fills His shining choir. 
 Still shall waken some SAveet lyre. 
 
 RETIREMENT FAVORABLE TO 
 MORAL EXCELLENCE. 
 
 ^N the crowded stage of the world — 
 that area filled with the fleeting show 
 of a vain and transitory life — how difficult, 
 rather how impossible it is, to act np to the 
 convictions of duty, or even to think with 
 the independence of a rational being ! 
 
 Bound by the seven-fold cord of worldli- 
 ness, tied by the unseen bonds of custom, 
 swayed by the hope of obtaining the suffrage 
 of the multitude, the soul becomes a pliable 
 and elastic thing, tamely delivering itself up 
 to the reigning mode of thought or custom. 
 
 While the world lieth in wickedness; 
 while the fashion of it passeth away : while 
 the prince of this world is not the prince of 
 
60 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 peace — so long will peace and piety be 
 found in solitude. 
 
 How many, who call themselves the ser- 
 vants of Him who passed through this world 
 only to endure its scoff and threat, are drawn 
 from their steadfastness by becoming the 
 votaries of a world which knows not their 
 Lord? 
 
 Yet they will say, " the world is Christian 
 now. No heathen cruelty, no open idolatry 
 now mars it. We do but walk with the 
 multitude who keep holy day." Yes, the 
 world now cries with ten thousand tongues, 
 *■' Lord, Lord," yet what pride, what vanity, 
 what selfishness will they be guilty of who 
 follow the example of the so-called Christian 
 world ? 
 
 Some may say, does not the path of the 
 Christian lay through the world ? Is he to 
 adjure society and flee to the desert and em- 
 ulate the life of the hermit and ascetic ? By 
 no means. The Christian is to act his part 
 in and profess his Master before the world. 
 But it is to lead, not to follow. It is to 
 
MOEAL EXCELLENCE. 61 
 
 tread its ways as He trod them — only in 
 doing good ; it is to mingle among the crowd 
 alone to bless them, and apart from its pur- 
 poses, its fashion, its desires, to live lonely in 
 the love of Jesus — singular in the service 
 of God. 
 
 While man is a social being, and as part 
 of a community, has social duties devolving 
 upon him, yet is he, in his personal accounta- 
 bility, a solitary unit. Placed here for a 
 little time, to prepare for an unending dura- 
 tion, the whole current of his nature to stem 
 and turn into another channel ; with graces 
 to improve, to which he comes a stranger ; 
 with propensities to repress, to which he is 
 ever prone, it is his wisdom, it is his happi- 
 ness, to disengage himself, as much as possi- 
 ble, from the careless throng, and surround 
 himself with a rampart of thought against 
 the seductive encroachments of a fickle 
 world. 
 
 There is a nobleness of mind, an independ- 
 ence of feeling about those who break away 
 from its enchantments and who dare to walk 
 
62 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 in a path of their own, or rather of their 
 Lord's choosing ; they live, or they may live, 
 alone with God, conversant with His ways, 
 enraptured with His works, skilled in His 
 Providence. 
 
 The world knows not the deep, pure joy 
 of those who, withdrawn from the bustle and 
 affectation of life, mount, with the angels of 
 old, the ladder of God's goodness and look 
 quite through the deeds of men. 
 
 It is in loneliness and comparative seclusion 
 that the sweetest foretastes of heaven, the 
 harmony of Providence and the beauties of 
 the natural world are most deeply felt — 
 most dearly appreciated. Like the raven's 
 visit to the brook Cherith, or the angel in the 
 wilderness who comforted Elijah, many a 
 message from God is sent to cheer the heart 
 that is sequestered from the crowd. 
 
GALILEE. 63 
 
 GALILEE. 
 
 What holy thoughts flow o'er the soul — what memories cling to 
 
 thee 
 And ripple in thy flo-uing wave, thou blessed Galilee ? 
 The mountain shadows from thy breast that chase the simset 
 
 rays 
 Seem sacred as the veil which hid the bright shekina blaze, 
 And every feath'ry palm whose plumes before thy breezes nod, 
 And cj'press grove and cedar bough tell of the Son of God. 
 Thy verdant banks in beauty still their lowly lilies wear — 
 The lilies a Eedeemer plucked — than earthly pomp more rare ; 
 And many a grassy hill around where evening dews are spread, 
 Once canopied by angels, forms a pillow for His head; 
 And mountain top and valley green shall stand forever dear, 
 Where rung his silver accent, where fell his pitying tear, 
 There Tabor's snowy brow reveals the brightness where he trod, 
 When as a diadem she wore the glory of her God ; 
 And distant olives — peaceful groves — embalm the evening air. 
 As floats adown long centuries, the incense of His prayer. 
 Thou chosen lakelet of my Lord, would I might gaze on thee 
 In all thy holy beauty, thou more than favored sea ! 
 Methinks thy waters echo still, and to their rocky bed 
 Resound to His omnipotence, beneath His kingly tread. 
 Thy conscious waters knew Him, and thy midnight's breeze 
 
 adored, 
 When pressed thy peaceful bosom the sandal of the Lord. 
 
64 SUNSET CLOUDS. 
 
 And bright and holy is the light which o'er thy wave hath 
 broke, 
 
 Where parable and prophecy the tongue of Jesus spoke ! 
 
 Thy banks seem hallowed altar-stones : thy sky a temple dome, 
 
 Those gentle banks in beauty made my Saviour's lowly home; 
 
 And though the Moslem's iron hand hath all thy beauty riven. 
 
 Yet flashes in thy peaceful waves the radiance of heaven. 
 
 Thy fallen spires shall rise again, and, behold, from each temple- 
 dome 
 
 Shall ring in glad hosannahs clear, " the Lord has come ! " 
 
 Forever vocal is the spot, and sacred is the sod. 
 
 Where, heralded by angels, moved the footsteps of a God.