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Uttklittgr: 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 SKETCHES OF LIFE, 
 
 COMPOSITIONS, ESSAYS, 
 
 DISPUTATIONS, POEMS, ETC. 
 
 • • • 
 
 BY SEABRED DODGE PRATT, ESQ. 
 
 
 AUBURN : 
 
 HENRY OLIPHANT, PRINTER, 
 
 1852, 
 
-G>C, 
 
 CX n (,51 
 
 ^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
 
 S. D. PRATT, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the Northern District of New York. 
 
DEDICATION, 
 
 TO THE REY. A. C. LATHROP. 
 
 There is a story, which you may have seen, 
 About a duck which was a little green. 
 That floated on a pond one pleasant night, 
 Saw there a star upon the water bright, 
 Plunged deeply for it through the liquid flood, 
 And run its head some inches in the mud. 
 The moral of this tale you well may ken, 
 Its application both to books and men ; 
 The question now before you, seems to be, 
 Will this apply to Inklings and to me ? 
 The book was written, little at a time, 
 Some parts of it in boyhood's sunny clime, 
 Before I well had learned to scan a rhyme ; 
 The yerse was chiefly written since the chime 
 Of English bards fell sweetly on the ear, 
 And sense and sound combined the heart to cheer. 
 
IV DEDICATION. 
 
 To please, instruct, has been the only aim 
 Which honest efforts for the work may claim — 
 To throw a moral sunshine round the hearth, 
 The dear-loved place where virtues have their birth. 
 
 You, who have been a friendless orphan boy — 
 
 You, who have wept upon an orphan's grave, 
 And learned the fleeting moments to employ 
 
 In teaching men their moral worth to save — 
 Whose heart, once touched with the Promethean fire 
 
 Sent from above to light the dark within, 
 Now scathed, not blighted, soars aloft still higher, 
 
 As burn the ligaments of earthly sin — 
 You, who so well and truly learn to blend 
 
 Two things so rarely to be found in man, 
 The unbribed critic with the. sincere friend — 
 
 You, who would teach the moral worth to scan, 
 Shall be my patron friend. The star of hope 
 
 Still cheer you onward to that better land, 
 Where you with adverse winds no more may cope, 
 
 Where all is sinless, beautiful and grand ! 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 Pompey, N. Y., September, 1852. 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 Friends, Patrons, all ! I make my bow in rhyme. 
 
 And ask a leisure moment of your time. 
 
 From care and labor, which all may attend, 
 
 To listen to me only as a friend. 
 
 And if, one aching heart, these lines could soothe, 
 
 Life's rugged pathway for a day could smooth, 
 
 How sweet the task, to cheer a lonely one, 
 
 Who walks in shadows 'neath a shining sun ! 
 
 No metaphysics, to perplex the mind, 
 
 And leave man groping for truth left behind, 
 
 May here be found ; so gently onward pass, 
 
 And learn of nature from the mingling mass. 
 
 Truth may be in a well, but seems to me, 
 
 In field and meadow it may likewise be ; 
 
 In singing bird, in rivulet, and man, 
 
 Where spicy breezes fevered brows may fan, 
 
 Where tempest howls around the lonely form 
 
 Which seeks for shelter from the pelting storm, 
 
 And where the petals of the spring unfold, 
 
 Mix with the air their fragrant wealth untold. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Introduction, --------13 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Brother Jonathan, and his early history, 20 
 
 Landing of the Pilgrims, ------ 21 
 
 Political Doctors, - - - - - - - - - 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Bondage, - - - - - - . - - - 26 
 
 Feeling and Fancy, ------- 27 
 
 Anecdote, ---------28 
 
 The Past and Future linked with the Present, - 29 
 
 Strife, illustrated with a story, - - - - - 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Spring, --33 
 
 The Season of Youth, 33 
 
 Egypt, 36 
 
 Young America, ------- 38 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 Introduction, ------- -40 
 
 Rhyming Epistle, ------- 41 
 
 Progressive Spirit of the Age, - - - - - 43 
 
 Hope, - - - - 44 
 
 Nature's Laws, ----*-«- 46' 
 
Vlll CONTENTS' 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Romance, - - - - - - - --48 
 
 Story commenced, - . - - - _ .. --»■.-- 49 
 
 The School-master, the School-room, and the Little Fish- 
 ermen, are in this chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A Spring Morning, - - - - „ - 58 
 
 The School-room again, - - . ' - - - - - 59 
 
 Greenville, and its Inhabitants, ----- 61 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Last Day of School, 67 
 
 A Composition, - - - - - 69 
 
 Niagara Falls, --------70 
 
 Right of Petition, ------- 73 
 
 Matrimony, - - 75 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Memento, ---------79 
 
 Vacation, William and Grace, ----- 80 
 
 Master Birch, --- 84 
 
 Master White, - 87 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Memento, ---------91 
 
 Grace, --------- 92 
 
 Letter from William, and its effects at Greenville, 94 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Memento, --------- 102 
 
 City Life, 103 
 
 The Changes at Greenville, - - - - - - 105 
 
 The Finale, - - - - - - - - - - 107 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Skeptic, -. 115 
 
 The Cause, 120 
 
 California, - -- - - - - - - 121 
 
 Time, - 123 
 
 For a Frieud. -------- 125 
 
 To a Bird in Spring, 126 
 
 For a Lady's Album, - - - - - - - 127 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Is the Reading of Works of Fiction Beneficial ? - - 128 
 
 The Bar vs. the Pulpit, as a Field for Eloquence, - 132 
 
 Do the Sisms of the Times threaten the Permanency of 
 
 of our Free Institutions ? - - - - - - 135 
 
 "Were the Allied Powers of Europe justifiable in banish- 
 ing Napoleon ?--- - --- 140 
 
 On the Choice of a profession, ----- 144 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Oraticn, - - ~ — 149 
 
 Temperance, -------- 157 
 
 Envy, - - - 160 
 
 Come to my bower ! ------ 104 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 Obligations of American Youth, - - - - - 166 
 
 Economy, -------- 171 
 
 Modern Improvements, ------ 173 
 
 Contentment, -------- 175 
 
 Dependence, -------- 176 
 
 The Classics, 178 
 
 A Dream, - - 181 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A Rainy day, 184 
 
 Habits, 190 
 
 The Sphere of Talent, - - - - - - 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 To the Publisher of the Union Magazine, - - - 198 
 
 The Sigh, 199 
 
 Hope, - - 200 
 
 Remarks on Criticism, - - - - - - 201 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 
 Winter, 216 
 
 Spring, 217 
 
 Sons: of the Milk-Maid, 220 
 
 To the Polar Star, 221 
 
 A Reply, 223 
 
 Epistolary Extract, ------ 22G 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 An Evening Meditation, ------ 232 
 
 I knew her by her Gentle Air, - - 233 
 
 To a Young Lady at School, 235 
 
 Valentine, -------- 237 
 
 Lines written after reading Campbell's Pleasures of 
 
 Hope, and other Poems, ------ 238 
 
 We are Peepers All ! 239 
 
 Letter to Uncle Sam, ------- 242 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 To a Desponding Friend, ------ 250 
 
 Song, 252 
 
 The American Flag, - - - - - - - 253 
 
 The Thirty-First Congress, ----- 255 
 
 Song, - — . - 260 
 
 The Sea, --------- 261 
 
 To a Lady who Advertised for a Husband, - - - 264 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 The Church- Yard, 266 
 
 Epitaph, 269 
 
 A Grace. - 269 
 
 Childhood, 270 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The Pen, 276 
 
 Free Schools, 280 
 
 The Sabbath. 281 
 
 Summer. ' 283 
 
 Lament for Ireland, ------- 285 
 
 Epitaph for a Revolutionary Patriot, - 286 
 
 Hungary — A Dirge, ------- 286 
 
 Autumn, -------- 287 
 
 The Farmer - 289 
 
 The lady who Sang for me, - - - - - 292 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Life and the Seasons, ------- 294 
 
 Parting Song, ------- 301 
 
 Song, 302 
 
 Song! - 303 
 
 To a Young Lady who Requested me to Write " Some 
 
 Verses/' - 305 
 
 A Maiden Epistle, - 306 
 
 Sonnets— Solitude, - - 309 
 
 Light, - 309 
 
 Friendship, --._- = 310 
 
 To a Friend on Departing for California, 311 
 
 To Mary, 311 
 
 The Future, an Ode, - 312 
 
 Lines "Written on Visiting Niagara Falls, - - - 317 
 Lines Written on Visiting the Battle Ground, near Still- 
 water, on the Hudson River, . . - 319 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 Clarence, a Tale of New- York, - - r - - 323 
 
XU CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "Oh! take the Harp!" - 346 
 
 To Helen, - 348 
 
 To Emeline, -------- 349 
 
 The Anemone, ------- 350 
 
 To xMary, - 351 
 
 The Lady and Bouquet, ----- 353 
 
 For a Friend in Sickness, ------ 354 
 
 Pratt's Falls, 356 
 
 For a Friend, after a Long Absence, - - - - 359 
 
 The Union, -------- 361 
 
 Acrostical Sonnet, - - - - - - - 364 
 
 The Present, -------- 365 
 
 A Doggerel, -------- 367 
 
 The Maiden's Prayer, - - - - - - .371 
 
 For a Lady's Album, ------- 372 
 
 Valentine. -------- 373 
 
 Song of the Rill, 374 
 
 Motto for a Literary Paper, ----- 375 
 
 On the Death of a Cricket, ------ 376 
 
 Switzerland, -------- 378 
 
 Alas, my Brother !------- 379 
 
 To Homer, the Poet, - - - - - 381 
 
 The Doctor's first Patient, and the Ghost, - 385 
 
 Random Thoughts. 392 
 
 The Orphan's Soliloquy, ------ 397 
 
 Lines Written at the Grave of my Sister, - - - 401 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 How much depends upon an introduction ! The 
 time, place, and circumstances of the parties, the ap- 
 pearance, the feelings and thoughts, all enter into the 
 affair, and often give it an impress which time can 
 never efface. A single glance of the eye, or a tone 
 of voice, may be remembered for years. 
 
 But in an introduction like the present, when one 
 steps forth to introduce himself to the world of read- 
 ers, if embarrassed in making his presentation, it is 
 not seen ; if too much has been said here, and too 
 little there, he can not excuse or explain. He can 
 only hope that fortune may favor his attempt to please 
 or instruct, and the dear readers, his patrons, will, out 
 of their abundant goodness, write at the bottom of 
 each page, a full explanation of everything obscure, 
 for the good of the rising generation ! Some, who 
 have toiled, and thought, and vexed the troubled 
 2 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 brain for thought wherewith to write their names in 
 a large building, on a high hill, generally known as 
 the Temple of Fame, have been doomed to see their 
 offspring, after a short and sickly existence, walking 
 the streets like common servants, with as much tea 
 and sugar as they could hold. Alas, for the ingrat- 
 itude of mankind ! But then there are others, who 
 begin so kindly and affectionately, that at the end of 
 the first chapter, we are on the best of terms, and 
 seem to pass through the whole work with the au- 
 thor's arm around our neck, while he whispers in our 
 ear words as refreshing as the evening zephyr of a 
 sultry day. The world to them is bright and smi- 
 ling, and they can discourse right eloquently of oux 
 glorious country, free institutions, and enlightened, 
 happy people. 
 
 In this age of books, it must be confessed, there is 
 nothing more needed by an author, than what is call- 
 ed tact ; for there is no subject which has not pro- 
 duced its books, and no two men can be expected to 
 write much upon the same subject, without having 
 many ideas the same ; for even in controversy, there 
 must be a common ground, over which they may 
 discharge an artillery of words, otherwise, they can 
 not approach sufficiently near for a contest. Another 
 
INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 idea of importance to authors, is to keep their produc- 
 tions out of yellow covers ; for some have such an 
 incurable prejudice against them, (the covers,) that 
 they would probably consider the Bible of doubtful 
 authority, were it placed within such a covering. 
 
 Dear reader, as long introductions are sometimes 
 considered odious, you may, perhaps, by this time, 
 be waiting for some • confidential communication of 
 the plan and object of this work. In this particular, 
 you may be disappointed, for it will only be limited 
 now, by a diameter of about eight thousand miles, 
 and a circumference of twenty-five thousand. In 
 fact, it may go beyond these bounds, to the pale- 
 orbed queen of night, whose borrowed light is so 
 often invoked in the deep stillness of nature's repose ; 
 and those subduing, melting, little twinklers, who 
 seem to open their eyelids just far enough to take a 
 peep into the dark. It will be read by many, as it 
 will be written, (supposing it to be published and 
 popular,) a few pages at a time, the thoughts and 
 feelings varying with the times and circumstances. 
 By the way, as the earth appears several times lar- 
 ger to human bipeds, than the moon does to us, it 
 must furnish a large field for speculation to its phi- 
 losophers and poets. I wonder if they do not some- 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 times invoke us, poor, miserable mortals, to lend a 
 listening ear to tales of ruined hopes, broken for- 
 tunes, and man's inhumanity to man ! If they do, 
 some one should inform them, it is positively of no 
 use ; for we have so many things of that kind, at 
 home, we can not possibly assist them. 
 
 And now we will make a short excursion on the 
 subject of reading, and close this first interview. In 
 the midst of this nineteenth century, an. age of in- 
 ventions and discoveries, and emphatically an age 
 of books, in which all views are promulgated on all 
 subjects, the universal reader may perhaps be consid- 
 ered safe.. He can compare conflicting opinions, 
 weigh well the arguments in favor of, and against eve- 
 ry theory ; and his conclusions, based upon delibera- 
 tions, with such assistance, will not be easily moved. 
 Some books are worth reading, for the style alone, — 
 there is such a nice selection of words to convey 
 precisely the idea ; they are so free from vulgarisms 
 and coarse allusions, that we may uncheck fancy, 
 after reading them, without the least danger of com- 
 ing in contact with any thing contaminating or im- 
 proper. And argumentative works do not contain all 
 the reasoning in the world, for a conclusion from a 
 supposed case may be as correct as frojn a real one, 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVI 1 
 
 provided the supposed case be a supposable one. 
 Romance may instruct, while it amuses ; and who 
 would not wish, sometimes, to be placed in the cen- 
 ter of a hundred acres of roses, or to luxuriate in the 
 glowing fancy of poetry and song ? 
 
 Teachers should be the best advisers of school 
 books ; religious teachers, of religious books ; law- 
 yers, of law ; medical men, of medical works ; and 
 they can assign their reasons for particular preferen- 
 ces ; but when they step from their particular depart- 
 ment to condemn a work, we should do well to ask 
 them for a reason ; and if they have never read it, 
 and know nothing of it, as a general rule, their opin- 
 ion is not worth the time of telling it ; and why 
 should we deprive ourselves of the advantages which 
 may be derived from perusing a new work, through 
 the prejudice or bigotry of a professional adviser? 
 The same work may suggest different ideas to dif- 
 ferent individuals, and a thing merely hinted by the 
 author, might start a train of ideas in the mind of 
 some reader, which would be the foundation for a 
 whole volume. A work, written in a slovenly style, 
 and without regard to taste in its arrangement, may 
 be of service by testing our critical powers in making 
 alterations for its improvement. His intellect must 
 
XV111 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 be either obtuse or precocious, who can read any 
 work without deriving some advantage from it. So 
 much has been said and written upon reading, that, 
 with this little tete-a-tete upon the subject, we will 
 separate for a short time, and then renew our ram- 
 bles, wherever time, circumstances and inclination 
 may direct. 
 
INKLINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 "Who has not seen the shadows of summer clouds 
 pursue each other down the hill, and over the fields, 
 and disappear forever : or bubbles rise in quick suc- 
 cession to the surface of a fountain, and dance a mo- 
 ment on its tiny waves ? These are emblems of life, 
 and the mutability of human affairs ; but we are so 
 often reminded of them, that like courteous visitors, 
 we will enjoy, as well as we can, our host's hospital- 
 ity, without annoying by perpetually telling him that 
 we can stay but a few minutes. Joy and sorrow, 
 hope and fear, are large items in the sum total of hu- 
 man existence : and as we may be compared to mir- 
 rors, which reflect not only the faces, but the feelings 
 of others, how important that those mirrors be clean 
 and true, that they may reflect no distorted images ! 
 
20 INKLINGS. 
 
 But enough of this. And now, before making any- 
 lengthy excursion, it may be well to survey our po- 
 sition, and take a birds-eye view of things around us. 
 
 A man going out into the road and looking around, 
 said he was about in the center of the world ; and 
 when we speak of our free institutions in comparison 
 with the monarchies of the old world, we indulge in 
 the same feelings, and often as little disguise them. 
 That we are highly favored in political freedom, there 
 can, perhaps, be no doubt ; but fate may cut the web 
 that fancy weaves of the future with such glowing 
 colors. Brother Jonathan is a pet. He has been told 
 so often that he is a smart boy and a genius, there 
 is danger of his being ruined by the flattery. When 
 he begins to cry for the sugar plums in his neighbor's 
 shop windows, and throw stones at them if they re- 
 fuse to shell out, there is some danger of his becoming 
 a little headstrong ; and being a large, strong lad, 
 should he manifest a willful disposition, it would be 
 a difficult task to restrain him. 
 
 But old mother England whips her children and 
 sends them away from home, very small, and then 
 gives them an occasional cuff, after they leave her, to 
 remind them of parental authority ; and these early 
 flagellations may do them good, when they raise the 
 rod to strike. 
 
 Well, really, this is a great country, and contains 
 within itself, all the elements of greatness, in extent 
 of territory, in variety of climate and productions, 
 and in the proverbial enterprise of its inhabitants. 
 
INKLINGS. 21 
 
 Two hundred years have rolled away since it was 
 almost one unbroken wilderness ; and if we transport 
 ourselves to the period of its first settlement, and 
 view, in imagination, the magic changes, there is, 
 perhaps, no subject to an American, more absorbing 
 in interest, or sublime in contemplation. 
 
 LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. 
 
 Cold autumn winds had swept the leaves 
 
 On* from the forest trees, 
 And winter's signal note was heard 
 
 In every passing breeze, 
 When from the May-Flower landed, 
 
 That little hero band ; 
 Then meekly bowed and thanked their God, 
 
 Upon the cold, wet sand. 
 
 The dangers of an unknown sea, 
 
 By them were safely passed ; 
 On Plymouth Rock they could not say. 
 
 Those perils were the last ; 
 "While round them in the forest prowled, 
 
 The savage beasts of prey, 
 And Nature's rude, unlettered sons, 
 
 As wild and fierce as they. 
 2* 
 
22 IxVKLINGS. 
 
 Behind, they left their native skies, 
 
 And ivy-trellised walls ; 
 Deep murmuring brooks, and verdant lawns. 
 
 And gushing water-falls ; 
 Where the heart still loves to linger, — 
 
 While round in sad array, 
 Come doleful thoughts beyond the main, 
 
 Of loved ones far away. 
 
 And here, thine altar, Liberty, 
 
 Amid afflictions reared, 
 And sanctified by holy vows 
 
 Made to the God they feared ; 
 Long may its incense grateful rise, 
 
 To Him who rules the skies, — 
 The Father of the Puritans, — 
 
 The Holy, Good and Wise ! 
 
 Possunt quia posse videntur, — they can, because 
 they think they can, — seems to have been the con- 
 trolling maxim of these early pioneers, — a firm reli- 
 ance upon their own capabilities, with corresponding 
 exertions. A world of books has been written upon 
 the subject of our early history, commemorating not 
 only Plymouth and Jamestown, but all of the first 
 settlements. In fact, there is not a county or town 
 in the Union, without its history and legends, writ- 
 ten or unwritten. From romance we get some very 
 good pictures of those early times ; and authentic his- 
 
INKLINGS. 23 
 
 tory informs us of characters, whose virtues should 
 be transmitted as a legacy to posterity. Every week 
 some paper contains an account of an individual or 
 place, the name of which has been familiar to us 
 since the lisping days of childhood ; and yet we read 
 it with a pleasure ever new, those accounts of Indian 
 massacres and brutal murders, always excepted, for 
 me. Some interlopers who came over to the colonies 
 may have given the natives just cause for resenting 
 their conduct, but the untutored savage has notions 
 of things differing from enlightened ideas. 
 
 Perhaps you ask by this time, if that position has 
 been surveyed. You must remember, that to know 
 where we are. we must know where we are not. 
 
 The farmer, when he removes to a new place, in- 
 quires his distance from tide-water, rail-road or canal, 
 market, village, post-office, etc., and then he knows 
 where he is. The present condition of things in Eu- 
 rope may affect this country : and nations are com- 
 posed of individuals. Sometimes causes which ap- 
 pear to be of little consequence, produce most aston- 
 ishing results ; and when the arrow has left the bow 
 of the archer, he can not turn its course. So many 
 Bunkerhiil speeches have been made on education, 
 freedom, patriotism, et id genus omne, that Demos- 
 thenes and Cicero would have been delighted in hear- 
 ing some of them, especially the latter, in listening 
 to those classical allusions to the Caesars. Cataline's 
 conspiracy sinks into insignificance, when compared 
 with the results which sometimes depend upon the 
 
24 INKLINGS. 
 
 election of a supervisor. This must always be the 
 case, where all are sovereigns^without crowns; the 
 successful aspirant will wear his blushing honors — 
 proscribe proscription, and in his turn, be proscribed ; 
 the mass of the people, little interested, unless some 
 Vandal undertake to peck a corner-stone out of the 
 temple of Liberty, or their individual interests be di- 
 rectly touched. Political doctors have used their phi- 
 losophic eye-water, for the purpose of improving the 
 vision of their patients on the eve of an important 
 election, until many have lost all confidence in their 
 prescriptions. Could we look into the future and see 
 the consequences of an action, it would sometimes 
 make us more careful. The past can be our only 
 guide, and if we stick stakes into the future to range 
 with the past, some wind may blow a tree across our 
 way. 
 
 And now, dear reader, a few thoughts on the sub- 
 ject of forming opinions, shall close this interview. 
 You may not be told to form no belief upon a subject 
 of which you are entirely ignorant, for that would 
 be, as the lawyers say, prima facie evidence to stul- 
 tify yourself. But against the prejudices of early ed- 
 ucation and habits of thought, it may be well for us 
 all to guard. All our ideas of the world are associa- 
 ted with what we do, see and hear. All our opin- 
 ions and thoughts are most intimately blended with 
 our own occupations. Nothing can be further from 
 ihe right, than always to judge others by ourselves. 
 There may have been peculiar circumstances, un- 
 
INKLINGS. 25 
 
 seen by us, or peculiar impressions to us unknown, 
 which may make an action, apparently wrong, 
 harmless to the perpetrator ; and therefore should 
 we ever cultivate that charity which forgives, as it 
 hopes to be forgiven. And now till we meet again, 
 — au revoir. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 He who has lost the glorious boon of freedom and 
 performs his servile tasks in obedience to the com- 
 mands of a master, is not the only one who is in bon- 
 dage, or has claims upon human sympathy. He may 
 have lost his birth-right through no fault of his own, 
 and a kind master may relieve him from many anxi- 
 eties which destroy the enjoyment of his free neigh- 
 bor. His food and clothing may be more than suffi- 
 cient for his necessities, medical skill may relieve his 
 pains, and provision may be made for his support 
 after age and labor have exhausted his physical ener- 
 gies. He may not know he is a slave, in that sense 
 in which an enlightened freeman would know it, 
 were he placed in bondage. The line which bounds 
 his vision, may be to him the world's extreme ; with 
 none to please but a kind master, and no wants to 
 satisfy but those in common with the brute creation, 
 he may be happy, as far as he is capable of enjoy- 
 ment. He who can not govern his appetites, must be 
 governed by them, and passions unrestrained are re- 
 
INKLINGS. 27 
 
 lentless masters. The ignorant man is in danger of 
 violating nature's laws and paying the fearful penal- 
 ty, in whatever he performs. But for the present, 
 adieu to this subject, which might lead to a long di- 
 gression. 
 
 Who has not sometimes seen clouds obscure the 
 sky of his prospects, or been disgusted with the real 
 or supposed vanity, fickleness or treachery of those 
 around him ? Then, with a few chosen friends, he 
 would gladly embark for some lovely green isle of 
 the ocean, where storms never come, where perpetual 
 sunshine gladdens the heart, while he listens to the 
 soft music of birds mingled with the ceaseless chorus 
 of the gentle waves that break upon his island home, 
 and where in green bowers by sparkling fountains, 
 breathing an air fragrant with a thousand odors, he 
 can pluck the spontaneous productions which nature 
 profusely lavishes in his way, and enjoy without mo- 
 lestation the society of those he loves. But he must 
 endure the storms, submit to annoyances and griev- 
 ances, despise fancied inflictions, and bear patiently 
 the real ones. He who can not do this, is no philos- 
 opher. The path of life now conducts us through 
 fertile vales and flowery meads, then, over sterile 
 mountains where nothing grows except thorns and 
 brambles, and he is the greatest hero, who can tread 
 its winding, varying course, with the greatest equa- 
 nimity. All objects appear green to him who wears 
 green glasses ; and equally true is it, that feeling and 
 fancy give their coloring to everything around us. 
 
28 INKLINGS. 
 
 
 
 But action and re-action are equal. Who has not 
 felt the truth of this, when clouds and storms oppress 
 the feelings, and the drooping spirits drop from 
 thought to thought like the drizzling sky ; and when 
 the vast expanse of ocean with its pealing anthem, a 
 mountain towering to the sky, or the thundering cat- 
 aract has awakened sublime sensations ? All must 
 feel the power of these external causes, these appeals 
 to man's better, nobler nature. While standing upon 
 the banks of the Niagara and viewing that stupen- 
 dous cataract, the feeling of the sublime is almost 
 oppressive. 
 
 Here Nature speaks, and in a voice whose tones 
 Must thrill the nerves. 
 
 And here permit me to relate a personal anecdote. 
 In one of the Western States, in a small village, there 
 is a tavern inviting with its substantial comforts the 
 weary traveler to repose. Calling there soon after a 
 visit to the Falls, and being invited to the Register, I 
 walked up to the desk, wrote my name, and seeing a 
 large, blank place for remarks, made a memorandum 
 of the cataract in a dozen lines of verse. A few 
 hours after this, turning to the Register for the new 
 names, I was very much surprised to see the words 
 prodigious, sublime, awful, written against my mem- 
 orandum with a row of exclamation points as long as 
 my finger. Whether written as a joke, or compli- 
 ment, this deponent saith not, but he verily believes, 
 it has been the foundation for many a speech of West- 
 
INKLINGS. 29 
 
 ern eloquence, without being thoroughly committed 
 to memory. It is a consoling reflection to the lover 
 of nature, that those who are so degraded they can 
 not enjoy sublime scenery, deserve pity rather than 
 contempt ; and under no circumstances, would T rec- 
 ommend any one to bait a hook with dry jokes to 
 catch flattery from a loafer ; even success must be 
 ruin to self-respect. 
 
 So many subjects present themselves for the con- 
 templation of the general reader, that in his moments 
 of relaxation from the business or duties of life, he 
 may, without entering into any long, metaphysical 
 disquisitions, or scientific researches, find sufficient to 
 relieve a dull monotony ; mental food, which, while 
 it refreshes and invigorates, prepares the mind to 
 enter with alacrity into all the business concerns of 
 life, We do not live in the present alone, the past 
 and future are curiously interwoven with it ; hope 
 and memory unite the two extremes, and blend them 
 in harmony with the present. The one, recalls the 
 incidents in the history of life, from the more impor- 
 tant events which seem to have a controlling influence 
 over our destiny, to the minute particulars of child- 
 hood, when the world was one great novel, exciting 
 in every feature to the juvenile mind, which seemed 
 organized expressly for its contemplation and enjoy- 
 ment ; the other, with the golden tissue which fancy 
 weaves from the present and the past, throws her 
 bright mantle over the future, which, if it conceal the 
 gathering storm, may make the present moment 
 
30 INKLINGS. 
 
 happy. If we take an occasional fancy flight, there 
 is no danger that the stern realities of life will not 
 bring us back again to earth ; and who would not 
 like to speculate where the principal yields such usu- 
 rious interest? There maybe a few instances in 
 which life is passed in dreams and reveries, and there- 
 by much usefulness is destroyed; but far greater 
 damage is done by not giving healthful play to the 
 feelings and fancy. 
 
 A clear sky and pleasant dreams to all the world ! 
 It will be more pleasant to live where contentment 
 and happiness abound, and we may perhaps inhale 
 from the balmy air around us, those odors from para- 
 dise, which we certainly could not from an atmos- 
 phere of malignant passions. But, if the world reject 
 our proffered sympathy, return civility and kind so- 
 licitude with rudeness, ridicule and insult, we will 
 turn from it without reproach, thankful that no vile 
 weeds grow around the fountain of our happiness, to 
 imbitter and poison the delicious draught. Think 
 not a passive, base submission is here advised to 
 whatever course may be pursued. We should know 
 our rights, and knowing, dare protect them. It is as 
 much man's duty to protect his inherent, inalienable 
 rights, as it is to relieve the distress of his brother man. 
 Why not ? Has he no duties to perform for himself, 
 no moral obligation to account for those gifts intrust- 
 ed to his care, and his alone ? They may not be 
 trampled in the dust with impunity. Man's crimson 
 cheek will tell the tale of his violated rights, if he 
 
INKLINGS. 31 
 
 needs the power or moral courage to assert and pro- 
 tect them. But frequently strife and contention origi- 
 nate from fancy inflictions, or from trifles beneath the 
 notice of the man of liberal and comprehensive views. 
 Against these annoyances to which all may be sub- 
 jected, it may be well to guard. A little story, with 
 its own impressive moral, may illustrate my views 
 on this point. On a summer evening, two men were 
 reclining upon the grass, and reposing from the day's 
 labor. Time passed pleasantly in conversing upon 
 the various things around, when one of them looking 
 up, remarked; "I wish I had as much land as the 
 sky would cover ;" to which the other replied ; "and 
 I wish I had as many cattle as there are stars in the 
 sky." ''And what would you do with your cattle ? " 
 "I would place them on your land." Then there 
 was a dispute about the cattle and land, and then a 
 contention, and finally a fight, and they maybe fight- 
 ing now ; nothing known to the contrary by my in- 
 formant. This may be an example for a thousand 
 misunderstandings in the world. We should never 
 forget general truths and first principles ; the great 
 index which points the best way for all men ; and we 
 should apply those principles, if we can, with a full 
 knowledge of ourselves. Do you ask how this is to 
 be done ? Study human nature ; view it as it devel- 
 ops itself under ten thousand different circumstances. 
 It is true we do not all do precisely the same things 
 in similar situations ; yet we have many things 
 in common ; invigorated by the same air, nourished 
 
32 INKLINGS. 
 
 by the same food, inflicted with the same pains, with 
 common appetites and passions, with common senti- 
 ments and feelings on many subjects, with heaven's 
 free sky above, and nature's scenery around, free for 
 all to contemplate and enjoy,— who can say, that 
 with the education and examples of others, he might 
 not have done the same things which now cause him 
 to despise, rather than pity his offending brother man? 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Spring is the most delightful season of the year. 
 The temperature is the most favorable for health, 
 which prepares man the better to enjoy its exquisite 
 loveliness. The odor of flowers and shrubbery is 
 borne upon the gentle breeze, and then the music of 
 the feathered songsters which greets the ear. is of the 
 most delightful kind. But spring may be better ap- 
 preciated by contrasting it with the other seasons of 
 the year. Winter, with its dull monotony of snow 
 and storms, has passed away ; summer, with its op- 
 pressive heat, is approaching ; and spring, mild and 
 playful, like the lamb which sports in the green pas- 
 ture, stays a short time, and then glides into sultry 
 summer. 
 
 How much like spring is the season of youth, when 
 the budding intellect and fancy seem to revel in their 
 own sweet profusion. Human existence is frequently 
 compared to a wilderness or desert, and the actors in 
 life's drama are likened unto the traveler of some 
 
34 INKLINGS. 
 
 barren waste, whose present enjoyment is derived 
 from anticipation of future good, or from pleasing re- 
 flections upon the past. Whatever happiness we may 
 occasionally experience from the present hour, there 
 are many, many times, when the vacuum which we 
 feel, if not the positive pain, compels us to acknowl- 
 edge the truth of this representation. Man seldom or 
 never rests satisfied with his present condition, how- 
 ever prosperous : and whatever may be his efforts to 
 bring his rebellious passions into subjection to the will 
 of Heaven, they will sometimes escape' through some 
 unguarded avenue of the heart, and travel in search 
 of riches, pleasure or power. But experience teaches 
 us to restrain the ardor, and moderate the expecta- 
 tions of youth. The airy castles of childhood van- 
 ish, " and like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave 
 not a wreck behind." Not a wreck ! Yes, they do 
 leave wrecks of bright hopes, fair prospects, ardent 
 affections, and all which once made an Eden upon 
 earth. But if the cold and cheerless realities of the 
 world teach us to chastise the juvenile fancy, and 
 ruined hopes and blighted prospects say to us, beware, 
 when anticipating future success, and the playmates 
 of our childhood, gone to the bourn whence no trav- 
 eler returns, admonish us of the flight of time, and the 
 frailty of life — we have one source of pleasure, of 
 which it is not in the power of fortune to deprive us. 
 As the eye of the traveler on the vast Sahara views 
 the beautiful oasis surrounded by scorching plains of 
 sand, as the mariner upon the briny deep views the 
 
INKLINGS. 35 
 
 green isle which gems the bosom of the ocean, so 
 view we the innocent days of childhood. Ascend the 
 summit of the Andes, stand upon the glaciers of the 
 Alps, the crater of iEtna, or wander among the ruins 
 of classic Greece and Italy — the season of youth is 
 still the bright and sunny spot in memory, when all 
 was joy, and gladness, and hope. Issue the mandate 
 for memory to forget the oasis of the desert, that 
 green isle of the ocean, that sunny spot, and will it 
 obey you? No! "You may as well forbid the 
 mountain pines to wave their high tops and to wail 
 the blast, when they are fretted by the gusts of heav- 
 en." But we must travel on, though we would glad- 
 ly linger around our childhood's home. Each day 
 brings its own cares and duties, and if we undertake 
 to embalm in memory and carry with us too much 
 of the past, it may prove an incumbrance to the 
 present. 
 
 In a republican government, every individual is 
 under obligations, both to himself and society, of no 
 small consideration. To obey the laws of the land, 
 is not his only duty. He has an influence in making 
 those laws, and without an extensive knowledge of 
 subjects of general interest, he may do harm where 
 he intended good. No one idea will prepare him to 
 act wisely. He should cultivate extensive and liberal 
 views upon subjects of a national interest, and forget 
 not, that when the great charter of our freedom is de- 
 stroyed, it may never be replaced, except through the 
 convulsive struggles of another revolution. In look- 
 
36 INKLINGS 
 
 ing at the history of the past, as great changes may- 
 be seen in the rise, progress and overthrow of nations, 
 as great changes in the arts and sciences, as those 
 which follow in regular order the changing seasons. 
 A glance at the history of the past, will prove that the 
 greatest intellectual improvements have been follow- 
 ed by mental darkness, and that nations once capa- 
 ble of the most splendid achievements, have sunk into 
 almost hopeless degradation. Egypt was once the 
 cradle of the sciences. The Egyptians, living under 
 a sky that was always cloudless, seemed invited by 
 the twinkling luminaries above them, to examine their 
 situation and motion. The invitation was not disre- 
 garded, and they laid the foundation upon which 
 future ages have built a superstructure that surpasses 
 in grandeur the loftiest conceptions of the mind. The 
 soil of Egypt is fertilized by the overflowing of the 
 Nile, but the cause of its fruitiulness swept away the 
 land-marks of the cultivators of the soil, and obliged 
 them to have recourse to their own ingenuity to as- 
 certain the limits of their plantations. In their fruit- 
 ful expedients to ascertain the limits of their planta- 
 tions, they invented the science of geometry. They 
 likewise made considerable advancement in literature, 
 and at one time they had so far surpassed their neigh- 
 bors, that it was thought necessary for a young man 
 of aspiring hopes, to travel through Egypt for the pur- 
 pose of completing his education. Its present condi- 
 tion, when compared with its former eminence in the 
 scale of nations, is truly deplorable. Once the busy 
 
INKLINGS. 
 
 scene where thousands were engaged in the cons mo- 
 tion of public works, and those vast piles whi 
 centuries have escaped the corroding touch of tic : 
 at present, it presents none of those enterprisk 
 jects, none of that intellectual character whicl 
 made it the admiration of the world. It is inl 
 by a semi-barbarous race, the deluded followe] 
 Mohammedan imposture, and its former greatness 
 known by its splendid ruins. In perusing the pa 
 which chronicle past events, it seems like travel- 
 over a vast, sandy desert, with here and there a i 
 fertile spots interspersed amid an ocean of sal 
 Those bright spots in history, like the fertile oiie- 
 a barren waste, are delightful to the eye of the tri- 
 er, and he lingers with pleasure among their verd 
 lawns, leafy forests, and murmuring water-falls. E 
 he must be an unobservant traveler, who cannot ga 
 er something even from a desert journey ; ana 
 must have been an unprofitable student of histo: 
 who has not learned important truths in tracing 
 decay and ruin of nations. It is more pleasant, j 
 haps, to contemplate brilliant achievements, great \ I 
 losophical and scientific discoveries; but its use, ~ 
 ness will amply repay us for turning our attention 
 the causes, frequently unseen and unknown, wi. 
 operate so effectually in the collapse and ruin of na- 
 tions of the greatest celebrity. I do not wish to 
 understood that the philosophers, the orators, 
 statesmen and the generals who have flourished 
 ring a nation's prosperity, and their deeds of benevo- 
 3 
 
38 INKLINGS, 
 
 lence and philanthropy, which may have had an in- 
 fluence long after their names have ceased to be re- 
 membered, should not receive all merited admiration, 
 and be made the models of those who aspire after 
 superior excellence. But while we attend to the 
 means by which nations and individuals have attain- 
 ed an enviable eminence, we should turn an inqui- 
 ring eye to the causes of national decline, and the 
 frailties and vices which have paralyzed individual 
 exertion. This is the more necessary, as there is com- 
 ad to us a hallowed trust, which we are bound 
 fully to discharge by the most weighty consider- 
 ations. This sacred trust is the boon of freedom. 
 We live in a country which is emphatically called 
 the land of liberty. That all men are created free 
 and equal, is an axiom in its political faith ; and 
 erhed by this and kindred principles, it has arisen 
 m the condition of British colonies, to the most 
 sperous and happy nation in the world; and as 
 the principles which govern us as a free people, are 
 not the production of a summer sunshine, we trust 
 r will not wither under the influence of a winter 
 storm. Judging the future by its past success, we 
 should expect that even more auspicious days are 
 yet to dawn upon our national career. But is this 
 certain? There are common dangers, rocks and 
 whirlpools that have wrecked the fondest hopes of 
 nations which have gone before us. Egypt once en- 
 joyed as proud an eminence as any nation whose 
 history is recorded ; and now w^e can only lament its 
 
INKLINGS. 39 
 
 departed greatness, and exclaim — sic transit gloria 
 mundi! This may be considered too sad a picture 
 to present for young America, while her presiding 
 genius with dilating eye watches over her future des- 
 tiny, directing her onward course with a strong arm, 
 and a helm obedient to the directing hand. It is 
 true it presents many dark shades, but it may be con- 
 templated with some profitable reflections. 
 
CHAPTER IV, 
 
 And now, upon the winding way of time, 
 With thoughts we gather from a distant clime, 
 While young pastimes may in memor}' bloom, 
 And thus relieve us from a present gloom, 
 We travel on. May no disasters stay us, 
 Ko fond hopes of future good betray us, 
 No evil genius on the road delay us, 
 Ko dark clouds in somber hue array us, 
 While from green bank or gayly scented field, 
 The wild flower may by its sweetness yield 
 A trace to its retreat ; or on the bough above, 
 We see those messengers of nature's love, 
 And listen for a moment to their song, 
 Or things more useful may our stay prolong. 
 
 We pause, as did a celebrated hero of antiquity, 
 upon the banks of the Rubicon ; not that our reflec- 
 tions are of as much importance to the world, as the 
 
INKLINGS. 41 
 
 cogitations which disturbed the mental caliber of that 
 celebrated individual ; but then, we are all of us 
 sometimes in as great a quandary. "We pause, not 
 for a reply to anything which has been said, for if it 
 is not unanswerable, we expect to hear from it wi h- 
 out a pause; nor for the want of materials where- 
 with to proceed, — but for the plain reason, that there 
 is doubt about the best course to pursue. However, 
 we will try to make a pleasant trip somewhere, and 
 speculate a little on the way. Suppose we examine 
 private correspondence, and see if there is not some- 
 thing which may be introduced with prepiiety. Here 
 is a rhyming epistle to my sister, which you shall 
 have and judge for yourself, of its propriety, and the 
 state of feeling which at that time prevailed. 
 
 This, Sister, is designed to be 
 A few, brief lines from S. D. P., 
 In which, one part will be for song, 
 To make the numbers move along, 
 And keep all parts in a good rhyme, 
 To measure well with poet's time ; 
 The other part shall well unfold, 
 Few of the thousand things untold, 
 Both important and non-essentiaIP 3 
 "Which you will take without credentials ; 
 And which Lave happened to your brother, 
 TVhile in the world without a mother, 
 
42 INKLINGS. 
 
 And traveling o'er it, far and near, 
 
 To find one sympathizing tear. 
 
 And now, to execute my plan : 
 
 I am yet what they call a man, 
 
 Some six feet and a trifle oyer, 
 
 And have been fat as pigs in clover ; 
 
 But now, for three or four weeks past, 
 
 (And how much longer it will last, 
 
 Ye gods propitious only know, 
 
 Who from above your bolts do throw !) 
 
 To tell you all the honest truth, 
 
 Have felt but little like a youth. 
 
 But when the clouds, which seem to lie 
 
 Above us in an open sky, 
 
 And from above, on us look down, . 
 
 With gloom and threat'ning in their frown, 
 
 Have passed away, and left no trace 
 
 To mark the very spot or place, 
 
 How bright the sunshine which succeeds, 
 
 And from the same dark place proceeds ! 
 
 Could I but see once more thine eye, 
 
 And hear that voice, and press that hand, 
 
 And know indeed that thou wert nigh — 
 
 That I was not in stranger land — 
 
 Then I should feel as blithe and gay 
 
 As wild-wood bird in month of May. 
 
 The hair-breadth 'scapes, the 'ventures bold. 
 
 Of beetling cliff and mountain rill — 
 
 The thousand things unseen, untold, 
 
INKLINGS. 43 
 
 Which yet the imagination fill — 
 Would only add to length of song, 
 And now a weary note prolong. 
 So now farewell, may blessings greet you, 
 And fortune kind forever treat you ! 
 
 There is more of this private correspondence, suf- 
 ficient, perhaps, to make a volume ; but some of it is 
 too private to be of general interest, and some, too 
 full of private interest to be of general notoriety. 
 Well, let that pass, and we will proceed to the ex? 
 ination, investigation, or elucidation of something 
 without these formidable objections. The progress- 
 ive spirit of the age, is an interesting subject for r 
 templation, and cannot have escaped the notice, even 
 of a careless observer of things around him. It is 
 opposed to that conservative principle, which a 
 tenaciously to established usages and customs, : 
 adopts with the greatest facility those innovations . 
 improvements, which recommend themselves to be 
 of practical importance. 
 
 This progressive spirit may sometimes conduct its 
 possessor through schemes of doubtful utility, but 
 should hesitate to condemn that which has advanc 
 the present so far be3^ond preceding ages, in useful 
 inventions and improvements. There are immuta 
 principles and truths which time, place, and eircu 
 stance can never change ; and while the conservati 
 principle adheres to these, the progressive spirit rejec ! s 
 
INKLINGS. 
 
 a new thing, because it is new, if not inconsis- 
 ith these general truths. 
 A large development of the organ hope, seems to 
 leading characteristic of the present age, and it 
 Suit to conceive a state of society in which it is 
 t of the most interesting features. Few have 
 tny time so far obtained their wishes, as to be sat- 
 ith present attainments. A very few, favored 
 surrounding circumstances, may have conferred 
 great benefits upon communities, and may have 
 i so highly esteemed by others, that, in the enjoy- 
 it of glory arising from the past, they have forgot" 
 he hopes and fears of the future, which form the 
 t interesting feature in the minds of most men. 
 if this be true with respect to a few, it is very 
 rent with a large majority. In their pursuit of 
 future, they forget the present, and only recall 
 past, for the assistance which its experience can 
 them in their eager pursuit of that which is be- 
 them. It may be said, that the desire of some 
 :t, is the cause of the action and anxiety which 
 urb the repose of so many ; and it may be replied, 
 the desire of any object, however strong, would 
 be a sufficient incentive to action, unless that de- 
 were attended with the hope of finally attaining 
 3Ct. This hope, which "springs eternal in the 
 nan breast," is not confined to republican govern - 
 its, or limited to monarchical ones; neither is its 
 luence confined to the most refined state of socie- 
 The sage and the savage may both act under 
 
INKLINGS. 45 
 
 its influence for the attainment of widely different 
 objects. The. one, may labor with the hope of dedu- 
 cing some new principle in theory, or making an im- 
 portant practical discovery, which shall benefit future 
 ages and add imperishable luster to his name ; the 
 other, may labor with the hope of excelling in the 
 dexterity of his movements, of surpassing his compe- 
 titors in the chase, or the ambition of his warlike 
 neighbors in the glory of daring exploits. The stim- 
 ulating power of hope is not confined to schemes of 
 exalted ambition, nor to the noble efforts of distin- 
 guished philanthropy. 
 
 All classes and conditions of men are influenced by 
 this element, which pervades universal society, and 
 seems to be an inherent principle in man himself. Its 
 power might, perhaps, be better appreciated by sup- 
 posing a community entirely destitute of its influence. 
 We can not tell precisely what its effect would be, yet 
 we may presume, it would not be intelligent, enter- 
 prising, or useful. But it is not necessary to suppose 
 a society deprived of its influence, to know, that the 
 influence which it exerts is powerful, and that the 
 stimulus of hope often rouses the dormant energies of 
 individuals to action, which results in individual dis- 
 tinction, and the benefit of whole communities. Ful- 
 ton never would have improved the steam engine, 
 however ardent his desire might have been to confer 
 a favor upon the community, had he not been encour- 
 aged during his efforts, with the hope of finally ac- 
 complishing his purpose. Numerous other instances 
 3* 
 
46 INKLINGS. 
 
 of a similar kind, might be mentioned. Washington. 
 with all his philanthropy, would never have under- 
 taken the contest with British power for the rescue of 
 his country's inalienable rights, if he had not cher- 
 ished in his bosom the fond hope, that his hardships 
 and sufferings would result in the emancipation of 
 his country from British tyranny. Its influence is 
 not confined to those who are toiling in pursuit of 
 fame, or for the accomplishment of objects resulting 
 in the greatest consequences. It visits the sick bed, 
 and administers its reviving cordial to the invalid 
 weakened with suffering and pain. It cheers the 
 tempest-tossed mariner with the anticipation of reach- 
 ing his. destined In.ven, freighted with all his wishes. 
 Nature, impartial in her operations, bestows her pleas- 
 ing hopes on all men ; writes as with a sunbeam her 
 immutable laws on all around, and by their regular- 
 ity, variety and beauty, invites all to study and ad- 
 mire, them. Her laws are not like the fancy sketches 
 of a novelist, which please when they are first read, 
 but lose their pleasure upon a secor.d perusal. They 
 are facts, which, from their intimate connection with 
 man's existence and welfare, as well as from their na- 
 tural greatness and beauty, are always sources of the 
 purest pleasure to every mind capable of appreciating 
 their usefulness and beauty. Nor is their extent or 
 number so limited as to furnish a subject for contem- 
 plation without variety ; at one time, conducting the 
 mind through regions vast as the creation which they 
 sustain, and at another, inviting it to observe the in- 
 
INKLINGS 47 
 
 stinctive faculties of an ephemeral insect. Yet this 
 subject, so extensive, pure and noble, it must be ac- 
 knowledged, presents few allurements to many, who 
 prefer seeking pleasure in trifling vanities or artificial 
 amusements. But to the lover of nature, her immu- 
 table laws present an ample field, where, if he cannot 
 gather the warrior's laurels or the statesman's wreath, 
 he can revel among more prolific sources of enjoy- 
 ment. Nature's laws are immutable, and herself re- 
 juvenated yearly, presents no symptoms of decay; 
 but time writes its wrinkles on man's smooth brow, 
 dims the luster of his eye, and renders dull the acuta 
 perception of his ear. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Romance has become an important characteristic 
 in the literature of the age, and may, perhaps, be 
 classed with those refinements of sculpture, painting 
 and poetry, which accompany an advanced state of 
 civilization. Some condemn every thing which is 
 fiction, and others devour it with the utmost rapacity. 
 The course between extremes is generally the best, 
 and that is the one which we will pursue. Without 
 undertaking to advocate the cause of those foolish 
 and corrupting stories which prove the imbecility of 
 the writers, and the depraved taste which demands 
 them, we shall advocate the general principle, that 
 fiction may convey important instruction upon all the 
 great subjects connected with man's welfare, as a sen- 
 tient, social and moral being. I have heard the coarse 
 and vulgar remark, it's a lie, all a lie, applied to many 
 works of fiction, by those who were entirely ignorant 
 of their contents. But what is a lie ? It is an untruth 
 told for the purpose of deceiving ; as when a man 
 
INKLINGS. 4 ( J 
 
 in disposing of a horse, says, he is kind and true, 
 which is not a fact, or neglects to disclose some se- 
 cret fault or defect, and thereby obtains more than 
 his real value. The suppression of a truth may be 
 as much a lie, as the suggestion of a falsehood. Ac- 
 cording to the definition which they give to the term, 
 a man would have no right to suppose a case for the 
 purpose of illustrating a point in argument ; iEsop's 
 Fables, Paradise Lost, those interesting moral tales 
 in Sunday School libraries, and even the parables of 
 the Scripture must be condemned. 
 
 With these few remarks on this much abused sub- 
 ject, we will turn our attention to a little romance, to 
 relieve the monotony of the way, in which one may 
 discover a moral truth, another may see an acquaint- 
 ance, and a third may observe some one, or some 
 thing, not seen by either of the others. Let me see 
 where the scene shall be ; not before the deluge, that 
 would be too far off; Persia in the days'of Alexan- 
 der might do, but their language, habits and customs 
 are so different from ours, that we should feel rather 
 awkward with Persian gear on. Shall it be in Greece 
 or Rome ? No, shades of departed orators forbid S 
 It might be among the French peasantry in some de- 
 lightful valley, with fair cottages and vineyards, but 
 I fear making bad work talking French ; and then I 
 might make them say or do something that would 
 shame them, if they should ever hear of it. The 
 olden time of England might do, if the pen of Scott 
 had not recalled from their slumber the mighty spir- 
 
50 INKLINGS. 
 
 its of the past, till few are left to answer a modern 
 invocation, and they might refuse to obey any but 
 the mighty Wizard of the North. A western orator 
 says, " the largest rivers, the highest mountains, the 
 loudest thunder, the handsomest girls, and the great- 
 est turnups in all creation, grow in our own splendif- 
 erous country." Here too are mounds and ancient 
 fortifications, notched by passing centuries, where the 
 lover of antiquity can find sufficient mystery around 
 the footsteps of time for curiosity to feed on busy con- 
 jecture ; here, in our own country, are the remnants 
 of a former race, with their interesting peculiarities, . 
 and here are the homes, hopes and wishes of those 
 who would gladden their fire-sides with an old ac- 
 quaintance, in preference to a stranger. Here, then, 
 the scene shall be. We will enter one of the school- 
 houses of Western New- York, situated on four cor- 
 ners in the midst of a farming neighborhood, and 
 selecting our characters from its inmates, will see 
 what can be made of them. For the sake of distinc- 
 tion, the little village in the center of the community 
 where the school house is located, shall be called 
 Greenville ; the school teacher, Master Birch. The 
 other characters will develop themselves as we pro- 
 gress. He was a specimen of the genus homo, with 
 his own peculiarities, as, in fact, every one has some- 
 thing to distinguish him from every other, and yet 
 his appearance would not attract particular attention 
 in a crowd of strangers. He was about the usual 
 size, wore no clothing extraordinary for its neatness 
 
INKLINGS. 51 
 
 or otherwise, and -might have been passed by a stran- 
 ger with the single reflection, that he was one of the 
 race to which himself belonged. When addressed, 
 there was an expression of frankness and benevo- 
 lence upon his countenance, and in his tone and man- 
 ner, which might make you feel contented and dig- 
 nified, without exalting him a penny-worth in your 
 estimation ; but in his mild, hazel eye. which seem- 
 ed to kindle a little as its depths were explored, a 
 searching observer might have read, or thought he 
 read, like one of those? ancient inscriptions half oblit- 
 erated by time ; " I have rights which you will of 
 course respect." His favorite motto was, fiat justitia 
 ruat coelum ; and with an extensive, scientific, literary 
 and general knowledge, and an ambition which is the 
 natural result of that knowledge, it seems as if he 
 'must have been designed to play a conspicuous part 
 in the great drama of human affairs ; but fate clip- 
 ped the thread of his destiny, and left him, not to 
 teach listening senates to hang with rapture on his 
 accents, but to teach the young and tender idea how 
 to vegetate. He understood all this perfectly well, 
 and with a resignation which might have been an 
 ornament to primitive martyrs, he fulfilled his desti- 
 ny. On that eventful morning so full of interest and 
 curiosity to the juvenile mind, when Master Birch 
 commenced his task, he did not make any of those 
 unusual, oratorical displays and demonstrations, to 
 which some may have listened on similar occasions; 
 as for instance, that twenty-five or thirty boys in the 
 
52 INKLINGS. 
 
 same neighborhood might rise up and each become 
 governor of the State in the course of a very few 
 years, say ten or fifteen, because tall oaks do grow 
 from little acorns. Nothing of this kind happened. 
 At the usual hour, he requested them to take their 
 accustomed places, and when all was still, began to 
 talk with them in a quiet, familiar way. He told 
 them, he supposed they had some correct ideas about 
 a school ; that they came there for the purpose of 
 learning what they could, that they should come ev- 
 ery day, and be there early, and remain till school 
 closed. To this they readily assented. They also 
 acknowledged, that it would be of no consequence 
 for them to come, unless some rules and regulations 
 were adopted for the purpose of preserving order. 
 But for the present, he left them to manage for them- 
 selves, telling them, he should adopt such rules from 
 time to time, as circumstances might make necessary. 
 For a few days, time passed away without any unu- 
 sual occurrence, and Master Birch began to congrat- 
 ulate himself that in his obscurity he should escape 
 many annoyances and vexations, which might have 
 attended a course of more exalted usefulness. There 
 was in the school, about the usual amount of loqua- 
 city, fun and frolic, love, pride, envy and hatred ; 
 but these little nestlings of human evil, yet unfledged, 
 were restrained by their respect for the master, and 
 their fear of future rules and regulations. It is im- 
 possible to give full length portraits of each individ- 
 ual in this little community ; even the few which 
 
INKLINGS. 53 
 
 may be attempted, will be only sketches to be filled 
 up by the reader to suit his own taste. It has been 
 said that human nature is the same, the world over ; 
 but if it is, it makes very different developments, un- 
 der the varying circumstances of different individu- 
 als. This remark, in substance, has escaped the lips 
 of many teachers ; if all the boys were like little 
 Johnny, or all the girls like little Lizy, how much 
 pleasanter it would be. Were it not ior these differ- 
 ences in taste, sentiment, feeling, inclination, the 
 leading motives of action, the history of one individ- 
 ual would be the history of the whole world, under 
 the same circumstances. 
 
 But to return to the school room. Among the 
 group of little girls which assembles there daily, and 
 may be seen at certain times, on any pleasant day, 
 'playing upon the green near by, there is one who 
 claims particular attention, for she now receives it 
 from her playmates, being the universal favorite. 
 Let us approach carefully, and examine the little 
 group upon the green. They have been very busy 
 rolling the hoop, skipping the rope, and doing other 
 things which children will do for relaxation and 
 amusement ; and the intensives, fine, nice, grand, O 
 how pretty, which escaped them, show how deep is the 
 interest which they feel in their little pastimes. Now 
 their former sports are left, and they seat themselves 
 in a circle upon the green grass, in the shade of a 
 tree which seems to them to be wonderful, on accot 
 of its size, form, and at least a dozen other particu- 
 
54 INKLINGS. 
 
 lars. In the center of this ring is one whom we will 
 name Grace, not Grace Greenwood, for fear she might 
 be offended with the familiarity ; we will take half 
 the name and put a garland on it, and then of course 
 she will be too modest to show any resentment. 
 Grace Garland was a lovely girl, for nature had be- 
 stowed a pleasing exterior, which was a true index 
 to the more ennobling qualities of the mind and 
 heart. Her whole appearance was interesting in the 
 combination of form, motion and general expression, 
 not so much in giving you distinct and rigid ideas 
 upon any particular subject, as in that pleasing im- 
 pression which it made. upon you, without entering 
 into a minute examination. Into the depths of her 
 clear, blue eye, as into the cloudless sky of a summer 
 evening, you might gaze and see those stars of small- 
 er magnitude, at first unobserved, emerge from obscu- 
 rity, one by one, as you lingered in its depths ; and 
 they would amply repay you for the investigation 
 which it seemed to invite. Her glossy locks might 
 not rival the plumage of a raven's wing, for a soften- 
 ing shade had been thrown over their otherwise too 
 strong a contrast with her neck of snowy whiteness, 
 where they seemed to recline in reposing luxury, un- 
 equaled by the magnificence of oriental monarchs. 
 Her teeth seemed formed of Parian marble, and her 
 lips, two rose buds first unfolding their petals to the 
 light, and around her mouth played a smile, at cer- 
 tain times, which might remind you of young dreams 
 of Elysian fields in the spirit land. The group are 
 
INKLINGS. 55 
 
 now busy in relating the various little incidents and 
 accidents of the day, each one relating an item or 
 two in her own history, and instinctively turning to 
 the center of the ring, for a kind ear and unaffected 
 sympathy. 
 
 Julia Brown met a large dog, in the morning, on 
 her way to school, which frightened her very much ; 
 Ellen Vernon saw a strange looking man with a bun- 
 dle under his arm. and ran into a house and remained 
 while he was passing ; and Edith Green saw T two 
 fierce loooking men on horseback ; — but the bell 
 rings, and they run like a flock of lambs to the school 
 room. In its vicinity, was a brook or rivulet, its di- 
 mensions varying with the season, pursuing its wind- 
 ing course through meadow, field and wood, and ter- 
 minating in a pond which turned the wheel, that 
 ground the wheat, that made the bread for the vil- 
 lage, and all the nice little cakes for the juveniles. 
 They seemed to owe this stream a debt of gratitude, 
 which they were anxious to pay by frequent visita- 
 tions ; and on many a pleasant Saturday afternoon, 
 the music of the babbling brook was the chorus to 
 the passing music on its banks, which were revealed, 
 far in advance, by the green willows and tall grass, 
 which fringed the margin of the stream. Here, Pe- 
 ter Brown, William Johnson, John Vernon, and oth- 
 ers too numerous to mention, with their fishing tackle, 
 and the little girls, their sisters and playmates, pass- 
 ed, occasionally an afternoon, which, if it did not ri- 
 val Cleopatra's reception of Marc Anthony, was equal- 
 
56 INKLINGS. 
 
 ly well for them, as they did not know the difference. 
 A little fish which would furnish bait for a real fish- 
 erman, was a matter of extravagant surprise and ges- 
 ticulation ; and at least a dozen pages might be writ- 
 ten, without describing the passage, by the assistance 
 of some fallen tree, over this Arno of the young lite- 
 rati. One afternoon they had gone further than usual, 
 and arrived all safe at the extremity of the pond, 
 where the stream extends its dimensions over an area 
 of several acres, and here the boys prepared lor pull- 
 ing ashore some of those monsters of the deep, which 
 they asserted should grow in proportion to the size of 
 the water. The girls, in the interim, were busy in 
 plucking the wild flowers around them, or examining 
 the pebbles upon the shore. At one time, they were 
 all seated in a row upon the bank, each viewing the 
 other's image traced upon the smooth surface of the 
 stream, and suggesting various reflections, as true, 
 without doubt, as those before them. Thus passed 
 the afternoon, and as the declining sun reminded 
 them of home and its comforts, they prepared to re- 
 trace their steps, with a sufficient quantity of the 
 scaly tribe to furnish an epicurean repast for a dis- 
 tinguished dignitary of Barnuni's museum, known 
 by the familiar appellation of Tom Thumb. A few 
 rods above their starting place, in crossing the stream, 
 Peter accidentally brought a fish suddenly in con- 
 tact with Ellen's hand, which caused her to sprin 
 forward, and precipitate Grace into the stream below 
 It would seem to be Peter's duty, under the circum- 
 
 b 
 
INKLINGS. 57 
 
 stances, to rescue the sufferer ; and he would have 
 undertaken the business, as soon as he could cross the 
 stream and safely deposit the innocent cause of the 
 catastrophe ; but William Johnson was not the one to 
 pause and make calculations, when Grace was in 
 danger, and leaping into the stream, which was not 
 very deep, though a timid girl might have been 
 drowned there, and encircling her in his arms, con- 
 veyed her dripping to the shore. This little acci- 
 dent caused some delay, the sober countenance of the 
 boys, testifying their respect, and the tear starting to 
 the eye of her more intimate companions, pure as the 
 dew-drop on the rose, speaking their tender solicitude 
 for her welfare. She soon recovered her composure, 
 and telling William, with artless simplicity, she ho- 
 ped he would not forget the kindness, for she was 
 sure she never should, they proceeded to their homes, 
 where they arrived with appetite and weariness suf- 
 ficient to give a keen relish to their frugal suppers, 
 and make their slumbers of that dreamy kind which 
 mingles real events with the unrestrained wanderings 
 of fancy. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The shades of Night withdraw, and the gray east 
 
 Dispels her gloomy specters. She held her sway 
 
 While weary man refreshed him with balmy 
 
 Slumbers ; this accomplished, she retires with 
 
 Quickened pace, before the genial influence 
 
 Of morn's bright herald. The feathered songsters 
 
 Chant their artless strains, the listening fields, decked 
 
 With the richest green, and moistened by the 
 
 Dews of night, mingle their incense with sweet 
 
 Melodies, in honor of their Author. 
 
 All Nature wakes, as if first touched by the 
 
 Potent hand of its Creator ; the blooming 
 
 Earth, so nicely blended with the gay, the 
 
 Gaudy, and the beautiful, mocks the power 
 
 Of art. Who has not felt words powerless to 
 
 Describe the enchantment of that placid 
 
 Smile which nature wears, in sweet mornings of 
 
 The Spring? 
 
INKLINGS. 59 
 
 We left our little fishermen in quiet slumbers, from 
 which it is time to awake them, that they may not 
 lose the enjoyment of such a morning as the above 
 description may recall to memory. They are soon 
 awake and laughing; and such clear, silver-toned 
 music ! None of your regrets, disappointments and 
 remorse, mingle with the sounds. No ! Tt is joy, ail 
 joy and nothing else ; and sometimes its piercing 
 depths are startling from their delirious wildness. It 
 seems a pity that man's feelings should ever violate 
 the harmony of the visible creation, but the clouded 
 brow and restless eye tell too plainly, that birds and 
 sunshine lose their power to please. Dream on, ye 
 dreamers, while ye may, and revel in fancy's gay of- 
 ferings ; for perchance the future may tinge your sky 
 with a leaden hue, and make the now delicious mu- 
 sic grate harsher on the ear, than the croaking often 
 thousand bullfrogs ! The juveniles had almost for- 
 gotten they had ever seen such a man as Master 
 Birch ; but the school room and lessons, as well as 
 his personal appearance, soon recalled the images of 
 departed days. To some, the school room seemed 
 a prison, the lessons a hard task, and white the teach- 
 er was wearying himself to explain some dark point 
 and make it clear to their comprehension, they would 
 wonder how much longer he was going to talk, and 
 how long before they would go out to play ; and as 
 he became absorbed in the elucidation of mysteries, 
 one would watch a fly in its course from his desk to 
 the plastering over head, and then from desk to desk 
 
60 INKLINGS. 
 
 around the school room, and wonder, why the mas- 
 ter should make any invidious distinctoins, and per- 
 mit it to buzz about without restraint, while he was 
 bound to remain without locomotion : and another 
 would watch the down of a thistle, as it sailed in 
 through the open window, about the room, and wish 
 himself divested of size and weight, so that he 
 could recline upon it and unperceived glide round the 
 room, take a survey of all things therein, and then 
 outward bound, float away, he cared not where, pro- 
 vided it were away from the school room. Others 
 were there who could appreciate his labors, and by 
 the interest which they manifested in his explanations, 
 even when they did not fully understand them, ap- 
 plied a soothing balm to his feelings when they were 
 lacerated by this barbarous inattention to his scientif- 
 ic explanations ; and when his eye rested full and 
 fair upon delinquents, they were instantly reminded 
 of some proverb of Solomon, or sage reflection of his 
 own, which made them feel, as if it would take a 
 strong floor to keep them from sinking through it : 
 and when he, as he sometimes would, relaxed into a 
 mild expression, and told them he feared they had 
 forgotten the story of the mouse and cable, which he 
 told them the other day, or in some other, gentle way, 
 reminded them of their culpability, the long breath 
 which followed the announcement, showed how great 
 had been their anxiety, and how much they were re- 
 lieved by the happy termination of their expected dif- 
 ficulties. Thus time passed away, marked by the 
 
INKLINGS, (31 
 
 incidents which vary its usual course, more than by 
 the return of those Tegular, daily events, -which make 
 all days seem so much alike, that we can scarcely 
 distinguish them. If Master Birch had not become 
 Sir Oracle, he had become a school master, whom, 
 even mischievous and turbulent boys had found a 
 matter of policy for themselves to respect : and the 
 villagers generally gave him credit for learning and 
 ability, mental, moral and physical, to instruct a com- 
 mon school. 
 
 The village of Greenville was a very quiet, little 
 place, nearly destitute of an article which fills the 
 market, and disquiets the slumbers of many a little 
 neighborhood : we refer to scandal and the love of it ; 
 that propensity to say things derogatory to the char- 
 acter of others, whether true or not ; that appetite 
 which can be satisfied only with the vices, frailties 
 and imperfections of others, like those worms that 
 revel in putrefaction. It is true, that one afternoon 
 at a tea party, a certain lady ventured to suggest an 
 improvement in the parson's mode of life ; but the 
 withering frown which met her on all sides, forever 
 silenced that subject, unless she wished to stand alone 
 and unassisted. It was afterwards suspected that it 
 was a mere feint, made for the purpose of ascertain- 
 ing positions, reckoning latitude and longitude, or as 
 is sometimes said, finding out which way the wind 
 blows. It was evident she had some ulterior object 
 in view, for she changed the position of her chair sev- 
 eral times, seemed very uneasy, cast furtive glances 
 4 
 
62 INKLINGS. 
 
 around her, and at last made the remark, she did not 
 believe that all teachers knew more than every body 
 else. To this remark there was no reply, but it was 
 more than suspected that her son, who had been de- 
 tained one afternoon after the close of school, had 
 made some complaint at home, to which his dear 
 mother had listened w T ith becoming interest. It is 
 not certainly known, that this was a fact ; but if it 
 were not, it is difficult to account for her remark, and 
 the manner in which it was made. Be that as it may ? 
 the subject, by common consent, was never renewed. 
 The arrival of the stage was an occurrence of daily 
 interest, and the village inn was a favorite resort, es- 
 pecially in the evening, for discussing the news of 
 the day and various important matters connected 
 with the welfare of the little community ; and if, as 
 happened now and then, " like angels' visits, few and 
 far between," a stranger made his residence there for 
 a few days, for fresh air, retirement and observation 
 of men, manners and scenery around him, the sensa- 
 tion which was created, was astonishjpg to them- 
 selves, if not to a stranger. The merry twinkle of 
 the landlord's eye upon such occasions, might make 
 one a little suspicious of his temperance principles^ 
 and it was astonishing to hear the squire, as every 
 body called him, launch out fearlessly into the sea of 
 politics and political economy, proving beyond an or- 
 dinary demonstration, the precise results of certain 
 measures, even those remote, future and contingent 
 results which can only be discovered by a phiioso- 
 
INKLINGS. 63 
 
 phic mind. The only objection to his speeches was, 
 there were so many ifs and provisoes, that he never 
 committed himself to any men or measures ; and he 
 evidently was proud of this course, which, as he some- 
 times said, left others to make the personal applica- 
 tion. Some of the villagers had even requested his 
 advice relative to voting, but with a modesty and pa- 
 triotism which exalted him very high in their estima- 
 tion, he declined, saying, that the men to whose care 
 was intrusted the preservation of our glorious free- 
 dom, should discharge their duties with a full, free, 
 deliberate investigation, without the assistance of the 
 personal prejudice and interested motives of others, 
 which would generally do more harm than good ; 
 and for his own part, he did not wish to assume the 
 fearful responsibility of directing their choice among 
 the men and measures of the day. 
 
 Deacon Brown was always a respectful listener to 
 the general conversation at the inn, and by partici- 
 pating in the more serious subjects, as well as by the 
 respectful seriousness of his countenance, restrained 
 the mirthful propensity of the juveniles, who were so 
 overawed by the grand solemnity of the man, that 
 they sometimes dreamed of seeing him with his fin- 
 ger pointed at them, after doing something they con- 
 sidered wrong, and the vision was sure to haunt them 
 for a long time. There are other characters, equally 
 worthy of remembrance in the chronicles of Green- 
 ville ; the merchant, so amiable at the counter, that 
 it was really a pleasure to give him your money in 
 
64 INKLINGS. 
 
 exchange for articles you might need ; the industri- 
 ous blacksmith, whose ringing anvil was the morning 
 bell that roused many a sleeper ; and others, whose 
 names and deeds will long be remembered by the in- 
 habitants, although they may escape the pages of 
 veritable history ; may, indeed, whip round the cor- 
 ner of forgetfulness, and live fre§h in memory, after 
 those embalmed in books shall have become rusty 
 and musty on an upper shelf, and the rightful prop- 
 erty of some itinerant vender of tin ware. But there 
 is one more character which must not be forgotten in 
 these hasty pencilings ; the village parson. Mild, 
 modest and amiable in his deportment, with that 
 agreeable suavity of manners, which, without the 
 least appearance of cringing sycophancy, presents a 
 resistless recommendation to the good opinion of oth- 
 ers ; he was not only the idol of his flock, but exten- 
 ded a salutary influence over those who did not ac- 
 knowledge his guardian care, and yet felt the influ- 
 ence of that living example of Christian character. 
 His peculiar style of oratory, must be witnessed to be 
 fully appreciated ; words can give you but a faint 
 outline. His appearance in the desk was plain and 
 simple ; so severe was his simplicity, so free from 
 ostentatious display and affectation of every kind, 
 that the listener might look for some display of the 
 man, some peculiar characteristics, as a relief to this 
 single, predominating impression, which his first ap- 
 pearance indelibly impressed upon the memory. He 
 commenced his subject in that low, musical tone 
 
INKLINGS. 65 
 
 which at once attracted attention by the melody of 
 the intonations. He seemed to be perfectly familiar 
 with his theme, and too much interested in it him- 
 self, to stoop to ridicule or low invective ; not so much 
 because they might not be used, as for the reason, 
 that they would impair the dignity of the cause which 
 he advocated. As he advanced and placed before his 
 listener the hisiorical events of nations and individu- 
 als, for the purpose of recommending those mild pre- 
 cepts of Christianity as an effectual remedy for the 
 evils which have afflicted society, his own deep im- 
 pression of their truth, could not fail to find a respon- 
 sive echo in those feelings which had been won to 
 his interest, by his simple and persuasive power. 
 His style was the result of much care and attention, 
 which he willingly bestowed upon it, that he might 
 accomplish his noble purposes. With this hasty out- 
 line of Greenville and its inhabitants, you can, per- 
 haps, with the assistance of the imagination in the 
 details, give yourself a satisfactory view of this little 
 community. There were, in this, as in most other 
 societies, so'me whose imperfections, if they would not 
 bear a harsher name, would cast a dark shade over 
 the picture ; but we will throw the mantle of charity 
 over them, instead of lifting the veil for the purpose 
 of seeing men and actions, the contemplation of which 
 would make a melancholy contrast with the design- 
 ed dignity of human nature, and with those nobler 
 characteristics which we may contemplate and ad- 
 mire, with the pleasing reflection, that if their exam- 
 
66 INKLINGS. 
 
 pie should influence our conduct, it will be an influ- 
 ence which we may never regret. It may be neces- 
 sary to know the existence of vice, that we may be 
 prepared to shun it ; but its lessons are not so few 
 and unknown, that it is necessary to suppose any in- 
 telligent reader, entirely unacquainted with them. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 It is the month of September, and great interest 
 and anxiety are manifested in Greenville, not only 
 by the juveniles and Master Birch, but by their pa- 
 rents and acquaintances, in that important day which 
 closes the term of school. On the morning of 
 that eventful day, the boys wash their hands and 
 faces, and comb their hair with particular regard to 
 neatness, and the girls put on their very nicest, new 
 dresses. It is a public day at the school, and in the 
 afternoon the teacher expects many of his patrons to 
 be present, and the first half of the day is employed 
 in making preparations ; in fact, for a week or more, 
 everything has had a tendency that way — has been 
 done with reference to an honorable display before 
 the public. At last, the long-expected, half-wished, 
 half-dreaded afternoon arrives, and with it as many 
 visitors as can be conveniently accommodated. Mas- 
 ter Birch is on the best terms with the whole school, 
 and each one seems anxious to escape even a reprov- 
 
68 INKLINGS. 
 
 ing glance from that eye which has been watched by 
 some through the long summer days, with an anxie- 
 ty known only to juvenile delinquents. The school 
 had been informed, that the afternoon would be 
 employed in a general review and examination, which 
 would be closed by reading a few compositions from 
 the more advanced ; and particular instructions had 
 been given, that if any one were not sure of a cor- 
 rect answer to any question proposed, he should re- 
 main silent, and not expose himself to ridicule and 
 the school to disrespect, by any incorrect or improper 
 answers. Notwithstanding these precautions, some 
 of the answers were more amusing than instructive 5 
 but the general promptness and intelligence displayed, 
 elicited the highest commendation from parents and 
 friends. We will pass over a more particular descrip- 
 tion of the other exercises, for the purpose of giving 
 place to a few compositions which had been prepared 
 for the occasion, and which were read by one who 
 had been selected to perform the duty, for various 
 reasons not necessary to enumerate. When the prop- 
 er time came, he advanced to the teacher's desk and 
 placed upon it a small bundle of literature, from 
 which he made his first selection and commenced 
 reading, while an almost breathless stillness pre- 
 vailed. 
 
INKLINGS. 69 
 
 A COMPOSITION. 
 
 To be able to describe correctly, occurrences and 
 scenes, and whatever we see and hear, is very desi- 
 rable, but not often attainable. Some, however, pos- 
 sess this power in a much greater degree than others, 
 and although we claim no superiority in this particu- 
 lar, yet, as it is a very desirable trait, we feel disposed 
 to attempt its cultivation by an inadequate descrip- 
 tion of a Composition. A Composition is one of 
 those rare things, which, from their very nature, are 
 difficult to describe, varying with its author from the 
 sublime to the ridiculous ; and hence, the only way 
 in which it can be done, is to be governed by general 
 rules, and call extreme cases their exceptions. With 
 this explanation of our task, we approach the dread- 
 ed point; but before. we proceed directly to it, it may 
 not be improper to speak of the sensations produced 
 by the recurrence of the fatal day which calls for a 
 production from the contents of our cranium, speak- 
 ing after the manner of phrenology. We said, we 
 would speak of them, for we can not describe them ; 
 they beggar all description. We can not compare 
 them with the toothache, for with that, we may feel 
 calm and quiet with the exception of one toimenting 
 nerve ; nor with the ague and fever, inasmuch as the 
 mind is capable of enduring more intense suffering 
 than the body. Perhaps those who have never writ- 
 ten a composition, might be able to conceive some 
 4* 
 
70 INKLINGS. 
 
 faint idea of the task, if they have rode on horseback 
 with speed beyond their control, or leaped from a 
 coach in the act of upsetting. But we will not wan- 
 der further from the point. A Composition is a sheet 
 of paper, written and folded so as to give it the ap- 
 pearance, before closely inspected, of a deed or bond, 
 or something of equal importance. It consists of an 
 introduction, proof negative, proof positive, and a con- 
 clusion ; and the writer thinks, that all this is ar- 
 ranged in the most systematic order, or at least, that it 
 has cost sufficient trouble to have it so. It is the 
 scholar's dread, the teacher's delight, and the per- 
 plexity of all. It is handed to the instructor with 
 much self-assurance ; but alas ! it returns from him 
 "full of wounds and bruises." 
 
 TYRO. 
 
 This was read with satisfaction, and after a little 
 whispering among the spectators, relating to the au- 
 thorship of the production, he proceeded to make a 
 second selection, which was read as follows : 
 
 NIAGAKA FALLS. 
 
 It is a singular and incomprehensible fact, that the 
 sight of particular objects produces sensations, and 
 the sight of different objects produces different sensa- 
 tions. The vision is connected with the mind in 
 
INKLINGS. 71 
 
 some way, but in a manner which we can not fully 
 comprehend. Many of the productions of art pro- 
 duce sensations of a very agreeable nature, but they 
 are generally admitted to be inferior to the works of 
 nature. The mind enjoys with peculiar gratification 
 the scenery of a beautiful landscape. The sight of 
 a majestic river or lofty mountain is far from produ- 
 cing disagreeable sensations. To behold extensive 
 fields on every side, or the blue vault above us with 
 its twinkling luminaries, will bring into exercise feel- 
 ings with which we are all familiar. But the feel- 
 ings of awe, veneration and insufficiency, are proba- 
 bly raised to their highest extent, by viewing the cat- 
 aract between this State and Canada, unquestionably 
 the grandest on the globe. It is situated in the river 
 Niagara, which drains the waters of seven lakes 
 and bays, (one of which is the largest collection of 
 fresh water in the world,) and numerous rivers which 
 empty into them. The river commences near Buffa- 
 lo, and is for some distance about three-fourths of a 
 mile wide, and from twenty to forty feet deep. The 
 current here is quite rapid, but further towards the 
 falls the river spreads out to the width of seven or 
 eight miles, including several islands, of which Grand 
 Island is the largest, containing about seventeen thou- 
 sand acres, Two miles above the Falls, the river is 
 but two and a half miles wide. About three-fourths 
 of a mile above, rapids commence, and the river de- 
 scends in that distance, fifty-two feet on the Ameri- 
 can, and fifty-seven on the Canada side. The river 
 
72 INKLINGS. 
 
 at the commencement of the rapids, is about one mile 
 in width, and at the Falls, about three fourths of a 
 mile, including two small islands. The American 
 side of the cataract, is in front of one standing upon 
 the Canadian shore, and at right angels with the 
 principal cataract, which is on the Canadian side, and 
 has the appearance of a horse-shoe, the circular curve 
 being up the stream. In the middle of the cataract, 
 the river is supposed to be about twenty feet deep. 
 The roaring noise produced by the fall of so great a 
 body of Avater, is almost inconceivable, and is heard 
 the distance of several miles. The earth trembles 
 around, and a mist rises several hundred feet, which 
 causes a beautiful rainbow when the sun shines. 
 
 SCRIBO. 
 
 After this had been read, and while the reader was 
 moistening his lips and making another selection, 
 several inquired, which one had visited the Falls ; 
 and it was finally decided, that no one of the school 
 had ever been there, and the facts of the description 
 must have been taken from books ; one old lady re- 
 marking, he must be a rare genius to know so much 
 about them without ever seeing them, and she should 
 not wonder if he made a historical philosopher 
 one of these days. Silence again reigned through 
 the room, and the reader commenced his third selec- 
 tion. 
 
INKLINGS 73 
 
 RIGHT OF PETITION. 
 
 As it is common in these days of percussion, rail- 
 road, and high-pressure systems, for every one who 
 wishes, and has in his own estimation a sufficient 
 quantity of brains, to appear as the champion in any 
 cause that suits his own feelings best, which has for 
 its object the recovery of lost rights or the banish- 
 ment of some evil from society ; it has not only become 
 proper, but highly popular^ for all, whenever they 
 have occasion to speak or write for the edification of 
 others, to enter the lists as the champions of lost 
 rights, or the mortal foes of some destructive evil. 
 Such is the tendency of the present state of affairs, 
 that it is hazardous, even for a school-boy, to disre- 
 gard the popular impulse, in the selection of a sub- 
 ject for a composition. Indeed, this age seems to be 
 so much an age of impulse and passion, that explo- 
 sions and sad catastrophes might be common, and 
 productive of great injury, were it not for the benev- 
 olent and humane sujects, which, like the sewers of 
 Rome that conducted away the excrescence and left 
 the air of the city salubrious, are safe conductors of 
 the over-charged passions of the populace, which 
 might otherwise make the moral atmosphere impure 
 and loathsome. It is not my purpose to speak of 
 temperance, which has for its object the reform of 
 drunkards, and which is advancing with percussion 
 power ; nor of the high-pressure system of moral re- 
 
74 INKLINGS. 
 
 form, which discards the idea of a young lady's pass- 
 ing half her time in lounging and talking nonsense 
 with a loafer, to add to his importance in his own es- 
 timation ; nor of touch-me-not societies, whose mem- 
 bers, by assuming, that all who do not subscribe to 
 their creed are not gentlemen, assume that they are 
 gentlemen, and sometimes, by the curled-up noses 
 pouting lips, and awry faces which they exhibit in the 
 presence of any thing not far-fetched and dear-bought, 
 raise themselves to the dignity of a decent man's con- 
 tempt. There are other subjects, of which less may 
 be said, but which are not therefore of less impor- 
 tance, for the importance of a subject can not always 
 be determined by the amount of attention which it 
 receives. One, which has, perhaps, been neglected, 
 at least, of which too much can not be said, by those 
 whose grand, political axiom is " freedom and equali- 
 ty," is the right of the people to petition the govern- 
 ment for a redress of grievances. This, it has been 
 said, is the last right which the people have ever been 
 willing to yield, and the last which tyrants have ev- 
 er dared to demand. vindex. 
 
 This composition was evidently the production of 
 some one whose feelings had been soured, and selec- 
 ted this way to let the fermentation escape, and in ad- 
 dition to what might appear on the surface, to a stran- 
 ger, it seemed to aim some arrows at particular indi- 
 viduals ; but where from or where bound was all a 
 mystery, excepting the writer and individuals impli- 
 
INKLINGS 75 
 
 cated. But it was late, and Master Birch requested 
 the reader to select one more, a little more humerous 
 and close the exercises. Each one changed his posi- 
 tion, or settled himself in a state of quiet, as he was, 
 and the reader continued. 
 
 MATRIMONY. 
 
 That much discretion and sound judgment are 
 necessary in selecting a subject for a composition, is 
 obvious to every one ; and that it requires skill and 
 experience in no small degree, to select one of suita- 
 ble interest and importance, is equally obvious. Ful- 
 ly impressed with this, I candidly considered the dif- 
 ferent subjects which presented themselves to my 
 mind, and after mature deliberation, selected from the 
 multitude, three, which* in my opinion, might become 
 amusing, interesting and instructive. These three 
 are anti-slavery, celibacy, and matrimony. After 
 much reading, reflection and advice from others, I 
 came to the conclusion, that I should make matri- 
 mony the subject of the present composition, and think 
 I shall be able to show, not only that it adds to the 
 sum of human happiness, but is absolutely necessary 
 for convenience and comfort. That it is a fountain 
 for quenching much of our thirst for pleasure, no one 
 will deny ; but as to comfort and convenience, it will 
 need perhaps some illustrations. I shall therefore pro- 
 
76 INKLINGS. 
 
 ceed to state a part of my own experience upon the 
 subject. As I was passing through the principal 
 street of our village, the other day, I met friend Bid- 
 dlecum, (I would say by way of parenthesis, that I 
 seldom pass through the village without meeting some 
 one I know, as I have a very extensive acquaintance.) 
 and as I had not seen him in some time, he of course 
 presented me his hand with, how do you do? Very 
 well, thank you, said I, with botlyhands hold of my 
 waist-band, feeling as I should judge a fish would, in 
 a tub of soap-suds. Says he, are you not going to 
 shake hands with me ? When this second question 
 came, I felt as though, to say the least, my panta- 
 loons would drop from me, if I let go of them, and I 
 frankly confessed, that I had stumbled over the broom, 
 for the want of a wife to take care of it, and in addi- 
 tion to tearing a hole in my elbow, and bursting half 
 the buttons from my pantaloons, I received bruises 
 from which I have not, to this day, recovered. This 
 is but one instance, of a thousand, almost every-day 
 occurrences, in a bachelor's life, and the conclusive 
 part of the argument in favor of matrimony, is yet 
 untold. It was my hard lot to go as I then was, till 
 I found a lady, who, as an act of kindness, nicely 
 fixed my torn apparel. single. 
 
 This concluded the reading exercise, and the re- 
 mainder of the afternoon was devoted to remarks from 
 spectators, among whom the Squire and Deacon 
 
INKLINGS. 77 
 
 were conspicuous. The former, with his character- 
 istic composure, expressed his gratification, and en- 
 couraged the school to perseverance in the pursuit of 
 knowledge, by naming Washington and other illus- 
 trious individuals, who had enjoyed in early life no 
 better advantages for education, than those now with- 
 in their reach ; and concluded, by reminding them, 
 that Excelsior, the motto of the State, contemplated 
 no stationary point, but a continual, onward and up- 
 ward advancement. The Deacon reminded them of 
 their moral obligations, and several others arose, sim- 
 ply to express their gratification with the advance- 
 ment and appearance of the school, and perhaps they 
 ought to have added their acknowledgments for in- 
 formation. A committee then proceeded to distribute 
 the various prizes which were awarded by Master 
 'Birch, consisting of books and diplomas, of which 
 William Johnson and John Vernon were recipients, 
 in the male, and Grace Garland and Julia Brown, in 
 the female department. There were others perhaps 
 equally deserving, but the selection must fall some- 
 where, and the great popularity of those who had 
 been fortunate in receiving the prizes, caused general 
 satisfaction among the members of the school. Thus 
 closed the term of school, an important era in the his- 
 tory of many of the juveniles, and one to which the 
 mind will turn in after years with a distinct recollec- 
 tion of its various little incidents, when recent occur- 
 rences of more importance have escaped the memory : 
 those early events which seem to have a controlling 
 
78 INKLINGS. 
 
 influence in moulding the plastic powers of the man, 
 make so deep an impression, that they seem to be- 
 come a part of his very being, and are retained in 
 memory and enjoyed in fancy, even in his second 
 childhood. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 When twilight throws its softening spell 
 On rock and river, hill and dell, — 
 When through the wide domain of thought. 
 Will memory's visions flit untaught, — 
 May I not hope, a thought will stray 
 To one, who then is far away ? 
 That thought will find a welcome true, 
 In fancy's golden-tinted view 
 Of time, now passed beyond control, 
 Which left its image on the soul. 
 Though distant seas between us roll, 
 And we are, far as pole from pole, 
 Dissevered, while in memory gleams 
 One ray of those past, joyous beams, 
 Which gilded even youthful dreams, 
 Hope still will whisper visions bright, 
 Which yet may dawn upon the sight. 
 
80 INKLINGS. 
 
 The time of vacation was employed in various 
 ways by the juveniles, as much in accordance with 
 their own inclinations, as parental advice and re- 
 straint would permit. To some it brought its rides, 
 visits and pleasures ; to some it was a gift with which 
 they knew not what to do ; and there were others, 
 whose time, the warp of life, was interwoven with 
 various cares and duties. Among this latter class 
 was William Johnson, for his parents were frugal and 
 industrious, living in comfortable independence upon 
 their own labor, and considering it a duty which they 
 owed to their children, of whom William was the 
 eldest, to instruct them in the ways of sober indus- 
 try. Their little cottage was provided with many 
 useful books to which they turned with pleasure, as 
 a relief and relaxation from their various labors ; and 
 evenings and rainy days were hailed with delight, 
 for the opportunity which they brought of renewing 
 their acquaintance with the silent and disinterested 
 counselors of their well-stored, little book-case. The 
 personal appearance of the last named individual, 
 was frank, manly and confiding, with intelligence 
 sufficient to understand his rights, and nerve enough 
 to protect them. Whether he was a descendant of 
 the ancient Saxons or Normans, is not known ; for a 
 mixture of modern English and German, would throw 
 an uncertain light on that subject, and his ancestry, 
 neglecting to hand down certificates of his lineage, 
 there was a large blank which it is impossible to fill, 
 between him and his great progenitor Adam. His 
 
INKLINGS. 81 
 
 vacations were not always employed exclusively at 
 home, for the paternal acres were too few to furnish 
 regular employment for them all, and it was his de- 
 light in autumn, to assist the neighbors in gathering 
 their winter supply, and to add to his own little com- 
 forts at home. On one occasion, he was invited by 
 neighbor Garland to assist in gathering his apples, of 
 which he had a great variety, selected with care from 
 various parts of the country around him. Neighbor 
 Garland was very domestic in his habits, and man- 
 aged to pass along through life with very little notori- 
 ety, preferring to improve his orchard or make a fish 
 pond on his own premises, to participating in politi- 
 cal or religious discussions, or projecting various im- 
 provements for the adoption of his neighbors ; and 
 consequently was rarely mentioned, except now and 
 then, as a prosperous, happy farmer, worthy of gen- 
 eral imitation. The invitation was accepted by Will- 
 iam with pleasure, for various reasons. He would 
 have an opportunity of doing a kindness for a neigh- 
 bor, and at the same time receiving its reward from 
 the bending branches of the trees : and then, besides 
 all this, he would have the pleasure of a more inti- 
 mate acquaintance with Grace. His acquaintance 
 previous to this time, had not been so intimate, dear 
 reader, as you may possibly imagine. It is true, they 
 had seen each other daily at school, and often com- 
 plimented each other in their own way, and occa- 
 sionally, as she met his ardent gaze, a glow would 
 pass over her features ; and after all this, there was 
 
82 INKLINGS. 
 
 no particular, private, confidential understanding be- 
 tween them. But to return to the fruit gathering. 
 To him was assigned the important duty of shaking 
 the apples from the trees, which could not easily be 
 obtained in a better way, and then assisting in pick- 
 ing them up and pouring them into the wagon-box. 
 It was curious to see how few of the falling apples 
 would hit his school-mate, while her father's beaver 
 was often knocked into a shapeless mass, which 
 caused some merry remarks from the trio. Now and 
 then a lusty apple, large enough to make two dump- 
 lings, would fall into the lap of Grace, and as she 
 looked up to the place whence they came, she was 
 relieved of all fear of any designed injury. But 
 suddenly the limb on which he was standing, yielded 
 to its unaccustomed burden, and breaking, tumbled 
 its occupant without ceremony to the ground. While 
 Grace was unable to move or speak, from the sudden 
 fright, her father removed the helpless youth to the 
 house, and sent immediately for the doctor, a person 
 who has been entirely forgotten until the present, 
 when his services are needed, which can only be ac- 
 counted for, by reason of his being associated with 
 sickness and pain. He was a benevolent man, who, 
 without making any great, scientific display, per- 
 formed the duty of relieving the sufferings of others, 
 to the extent of his ability. He soon arrived, with 
 lancet, bandage and pill, and commenced an exami- 
 nation of his patient. He pronounced the shoulder 
 dislocated, the collar bone fractured, and thought 
 
INKLINGS. 83 
 
 some internal injury had been caused by the sudden 
 shock ; and after administering all the consolation to 
 be derived from twisting dislocated joints to their pla- 
 ces, and bandaging splintered bones, directed that 
 he should remain where he was, for a few days, un- 
 til something more could be ascertained with regard 
 to his condition. The first effect of the accident 
 upon Grace, had not been observed, and she soon 
 recovered her composure, and engaged in those little 
 offices of attention and kindness, so congenial to her 
 feelings, that, were it not for the pain of the sufferer, 
 they would have been a source of real pleasure to her 
 benevolent heart. She watched by his side, present- 
 ed the cup of water to his thirsty lips, prepared and 
 administered the doctor's prescriptions, and during 
 the intervals of pain, read some amusing story, to 
 relieve his mind from that gloom which settles 
 around the couch of sickness. The gratitude writ- 
 ten upon his countenance and beaming from his eye, 
 told in silence, but eloquently, how well her efforts 
 were appreciated. One afternoon they had a call 
 from Julia, whose intimacy there made such an event 
 of frequent occurrence. She came in high spirits, for 
 she had met John Vernon on the road, who had been 
 telling her, Charles Chatterbox like, some remarka- 
 ble account from a book of travels, about people who 
 grew to the height of several inches, fought insects 
 with swords, and lived in houses which common 
 men could carry under their arms. She was a com- 
 plete echo, a perfect mirror, in which any one could 
 
84 INKLINGS. 
 
 see himself delineated with accuracy ; and it was 
 without doubt delightful to John, to observe the re- 
 flection, while he was proceeding with his amusing 
 narrative. The weary, lingering hours of the sick 
 room, usually so painful to the young, by reason of 
 the restraint which they impose, glided quietly along 
 in the present instance, and the feeling of gratitude 
 was hastening into one of a more pathetic nature, 
 when he was pronounced by the doctor, out of dan- 
 ger and convalescent ; a conclusion derived from an 
 examination of his physical condition, and without 
 reference to the state of his feelings towards any one, 
 as the kind doctor had a wonderful faculty of seeing 
 very dimly, every thing not connected with his pro- 
 fessional observations. Whether the invalid would 
 have been willing to remain as such, for a longer 
 time, is not known ; but it is known he left with re- 
 gret, and the kindest feelings towards her, who had 
 beguiled many a weary hour, shared the pains of his 
 sickness, and by her soothing accents, softened the 
 rigor of his confinement. O, who can tell the bound- 
 less influence of that sympathy which twines itself 
 around those feelings, rendered doubly susceptible by 
 suffering and pain ! 
 
 There are others who must not be forgotten in this 
 humble narrative. Master Birch had been invited by 
 a relative to make them a visit, and a few days after 
 closing school, on a fine autumnal morning he might 
 have been seen at the village inn, with carpet-bag in 
 hand, prepared to step into the stage which passed 
 
INKLINGS. 85 
 
 near the place of his destination. The landlord, a 
 name that, if it be a misnomer, will be readily under- 
 stood, in a half-bantering way offered to treat, which 
 was declined with thanks for his generosity ; and 
 several of the villagers there, wished him a pleasant 
 ride, as the knight of the whip opened the door and 
 he seated himself inside, gave a parting nod and 
 good-by to all, and moved away from the scene of 
 his cares and labors. He had not rode far, before his 
 attention was directed to his traveling companions. 
 By his side was an old gentleman, who, observing 
 the turn of his thoughts, offered his snuff-box, re- 
 marked it was a fine day, he liked travel, there was 
 so much to be seen, turned his attention to various 
 items of interest they were passing, launched off into 
 the latest news from Europe and its probable effect 
 *upon the destiny of the world, and settled down into 
 a quiet re very, which terminated in a state approach- 
 ing as near to slumber as the motion of the coach 
 would permit. The seat in front of the ex-school- 
 master, was occupied by a blooming lass, whose ap- 
 pearance indicated the age of eighteen ; and the little 
 attentions shown her at the various places on the 
 road, those attentions which are the result of refined 
 feelings and unobtrusive kindness of heart, paved the 
 way to an acquaintance, which, under auspicious cir- 
 cumstances, might have terminated in friendly inti- 
 macy, and which served to relieve the weariness of 
 that way, into which circumstances had thrown them, 
 to be companions for a day in the journey of life. As 
 5 
 
86 * INKLINGS. 
 
 the sun declined in the west, reminding one of the 
 flight of time, and another of accustomed table com- 
 forts, the driver halted and said, the gentleman from 
 Greenville would find the place of his destination in 
 a neighborhood about one mile to the south of him, 
 where he soon arrived and was greeted with a hearty 
 welcome. He soon found himself domesticated with 
 his friends in their rural retreat, and so much at home 
 among them, that his visit was prolonged to several 
 weeks. Here, free from that restraint which school 
 imposes upon the teacher, no less than the pupil, he 
 recruited his jaded spirits by roaming the fields and 
 woods with gun upon his shoulder, though it must be 
 confessed the game suffered very little in that vicini- 
 ty ; writing letters to various acquaintances, reading 
 the news of the day, or assisting in the transaction 
 of such business as required that knowledge which 
 he was supposed to possess. He became an interest- 
 ing subject in the quiet, little neighborhood, and won 
 its confidence to such an extent, that an aged farmer 
 solicited him to make a journey westward, for the 
 purpose of transacting business ; remarking that he 
 was not sufficiently acquainted with the law, and 
 besides, was too old to endure the fatigue of travel. 
 An only brother, a bachelor, had recently died in 
 Missouri, and left some property which belonged to 
 him, of course, as he was the only relative, and he 
 would gladly intrust the business to the teacher, if 
 he could be persuaded to undertake it. The prelim- 
 inaries were soon settled ; and provided with the ne~ 
 
INKLINGS. 87 
 
 cessary papers and funds, the quondam teacher start- 
 ed on his expedition. He returned within a few 
 weeks to the house of his relative, and reported to his 
 client the success of his enterprise. The old gentle- 
 man was pleased with his promptness and accuracy, 
 and invited him to call and share his hospitality, an 
 invitation which he did not feel inclined to reject. 
 He found him surrounded with substantial comforts, 
 his amiable consort giving them a double relish ; and 
 a blooming daughter, with all the graces of a sylvan 
 nymph, the lass of the stage-coach, reminding him 
 that it required but one more to make the number 
 even. He was soon on terms of intimacy with the 
 family ; his intimacy ended in friendship, friendship 
 in love, and love in matrimony ; you must not under- 
 stand by this, however, that matrimony was the ter- 
 mination of love, or that ail this took place within 
 the time taken in telling it ; this is only a synopsis. 
 This has changed the whole course of Master Birch's 
 life, made him a quiet farmer, and left very little to 
 say about him. 
 
 The vacancy in the school at Greenville, caused 
 by his unceremonious resignation, was filled by one 
 who did not walk precisely in the footsteps of his 
 illustrious predecessor. He adopted what is some- 
 times called the sugar-stick government ; and by tell- 
 ing the juveniles, that he would assist them in plant- 
 ing their feet securely on the first round of a ladder, 
 by which they could ascend to a sublime height, and 
 see stars, and garters, and titles of nobility ; by tick- 
 
88 INKLINGS. 
 
 ets which he distributed in abundance, embellished 
 with boys and girls, carts and oxen, fish poles and 
 meeting-house steeples, bee-hives, and various imple- 
 ments of husbandry ; and by his comical distortions 
 of physiognomy upon certain occasions, which al- 
 most frightened the juveniles into the belief that un- 
 less they were very careful, he would be metamor- 
 phosed some day, and disappear in the woods among 
 the coons and foxes, — he succeeded in keeping them 
 in leading strings ; and their mothers smiled while 
 listening to their tales of future greatness, smiled and 
 hoped they might be true. Master White, superior 
 to his predecessor, not in learning, integrity, or the 
 power to communicate ideas, but in those little dis- 
 simulations so pleasing to the vanity of many, even 
 Avhen they know their falsity, became a kind of uni- 
 versal favorite among the children and parents of 
 Greenville ; and proud of his high destiny, he wore 
 the wreath of praise with that perfect satisfaction 
 which placed the limits of his ambition within the 
 sphere in which he revolved. Months passed away, 
 and lengthened into years, and he remained a 
 pedagogue, so confirmed in his business by habit, 
 that change would have been ruin to him. High 
 honors in the class, or new books and advancement 
 to a class above them, were the motives which not 
 only stimulated many of the scholars to persever- 
 ance in the attainment of knowledge, but excited 
 the spirit of rivalry, which sometimes caused those 
 petty animosities that, on a more extensive scale, 
 
INKLINGS. §9 
 
 might have endangered the peace of nations. These 
 were generally soon forgotten, and of course, forgiv- 
 en, and with the exception of these little ebullitions, 
 which themselves soon extinguished the fire they had 
 kindled, the world in miniature moved onward with 
 gay streamers fluttering in the breeze that wafted 
 them down the stream of time. There were a few 
 among them, whom no emulation could affect, and 
 no selfish principle could for a moment sever the silk- 
 en cord which bound them in a league of perpetual 
 amity. Among this few, were William and Grace. 
 Circumstances had placed them in a situation favor- 
 able for becoming intimate friends, and the general 
 character and conduct of each, had favored the cir- 
 cumstances ; and more than these, there was a simi- 
 larity in taste and sentiment, and an undefinable pre- 
 dilection, depending upon a thousand things in ap- 
 pearance, tone and manner, which it is impossible to 
 describe. The childish feeling of interest, which 
 had been early manifested, grew with their growth 
 and strengthened with their strength, until they ac- 
 knowledged to themselves, in the secret communion 
 of their own thoughts, that their happiness was one 
 and indivisible. Grace was his superior in exter- 
 nal advantages, and besides, they were too young 
 to think of perfecting that union* which existed in 
 their hearts ; and William, in view of these circum- 
 stances, had long meditated upon some plan to dare 
 fortune for her favors. At the age of eighteen, he 
 finally resolved to leave the place, as there was no 
 
90 INKLINGS. 
 
 inducement sufficient for one of his ambition to re- 
 main ; and yet it was difficult for him to decide upon 
 a plan, and whenever reflecting upon one, the past 
 would glide into his musings, and cause him to feel 
 a pang of regret, that he must leave a place where 
 even field, and brook, and tree, were hallowed by 
 association with all the heart holds dear, — home, 
 friends, the cherished idol of his heart. One pleas- 
 ant morning in the month of May, with a high rec- 
 ommendation from several of his neighbors in his 
 pocket, a small outfit for his journey, and the gentle 
 good-by yet warm on his lips, he left his T paternal 
 cottage, and proceeded on his way in pursuit of that 
 fortune, who has so often eluded the grasp of her 
 devoted followers. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sun's farewell beams will gild the west. 
 
 Long after its decline ; 
 The gentle brook with music blest. 
 
 Seems never to repine. 
 
 Those beams — reflections from the sun — 
 Remind us whence they came ; 
 
 That gentle brook its course doth run, 
 To mingle with the main. 
 
 The bird above the sea's blue wave, 
 
 Flies on with tireless wing, 
 Nor stoops below its wing to lave, 
 
 Nor tries its note to sing. 
 
 Hope speeds its way, joy nerves its wiDg, 
 For green isle far from sight ; 
 
92 INKLINGS. 
 
 May it meet no unpleasant thing, 
 Its prospects fair, to blight ! 
 
 That bird and brook, those sunset beams, 
 
 May yet perhaps remind 
 Of one, in memory's fitful gleams, 
 
 Who lingers far behind. 
 
 This may be an index to the feelings and senti- 
 ments of one, within whose bosom slumbered those 
 ardent affections which had been nurtured through 
 the sunny days of childhood, and which, awakened 
 by a separation, manifested a strength hitherto un- 
 known to her who had half-unconsciously cherished 
 their unfolding powers. Fortune might frown upon 
 him, disease might overtake him, or what would be 
 even more to be lamented, he might be prosperous 
 and forget his early attachments and preferences — 
 might be placed in circumstances where beauty, splen- 
 dor, and wealth, would weave a charm irresistible to 
 one unacquainted with the seductive fascinations of 
 the world. These fears and anxieties proved the 
 strength of that attachment which could not endure 
 the thought of disappointment or a rival ; and the 
 past, the glorious past, would return a welcome guest 
 to cheer the lingering hours ; and then hope, bright 
 and beautiful as the rainbow which follows a revi- 
 ving summer shower, would throw its halo around 
 her future pathway; and various little cares and du- 
 
INKLINGS, 93 
 
 ties would for a time absorb her attention, and to 
 friends and neighbors she seemed the same she al- 
 ways had been, with, perhaps, a shade of deeper 
 thought upon her brow, which was attributed to her 
 advancing years. Her kind parents gave suitable 
 attention to her education, and teachers were not 
 wanting, who might add accomplishments to those 
 substantial acquirements which are the foundation of 
 all intellectual greatness. The book of nature was 
 open to her view, and she was pleased in reading the 
 truths written on hills and fields, by the finger of 
 Goodness. Days, weeks, and months passed by, with- 
 out any tidings from the absent one. The inquiries 
 at the post-office were answered by that sickening 
 negative which made Hope droop and fold her wings, 
 His parents had the utmost confidence in the correct- 
 ness of his principles, and it was impossible that he 
 could have forgotten them ; and then the questions 
 would arise, why this ominous silence ? Has sick- 
 ness overtaken him, or has he been the dupe of some 
 designing knave, who has robbed him of the price- 
 less jewel, reputation, and left him a wanderer, to 
 despise the heartless insincerity of the world ? These 
 and a thousand other conjectures, were entertained, 
 examined and dismissed, with the confident assurance 
 that time would solve the mystery. At last, the long- 
 expected explanation came. One Saturday evening, 
 the post-master announced a letter from New York, 
 for Mr. Johnson, who hastened homeward, not doubt- 
 ing that it brought intelligence from his absent son, 
 
94 INKLING*. 
 
 although the superscription was a hand- writing which 
 he did not recognize. The anxiety of the family to 
 hear the contents of the letter, can be imagined, more 
 easily than described. He broke the seal, turned to 
 the last page, saw the signature of his son, and pro- 
 ceeded to read to the eager group of listeners around 
 him. Presuming that the Johnson family will have 
 no objections, we transfer a copy to these pages. 
 
 New York, December, . 
 
 Dear Parents : — 
 
 You have doubtless been ex- 
 pecting to hear from me for a long time, and have, 
 perhaps, been inclined to censure me for an apparent 
 neglect towards those, who, under existing circum- 
 stances, usually feel an anxiety that would make neg- 
 ligence criminal, not in the eye of law, but a crime 
 against those common feelings of humanity, which 
 all are supposed to possess. Your uniform kindness 
 and affection must make you lenient judges of my 
 culpability, and a brief account of my absence will 
 place me, not only beyond reproach, but above sus- 
 picion, unless that confidence which you have always 
 manifested towards me, has been shaken by some ad- 
 verse wind during my long absence from home. 
 Long, indeed, it seems to me, although variety, which 
 is called the spice of life, has presented some of its 
 endless changes to gratify a curiosity, which in a 
 short time would gladly exchange its gratification for 
 the pleasures of home. 
 
INKLINGS. 95 
 
 The remembrance of the morning of my departure, 
 is as fresh in memory as though it were yesterday, 
 and the bright hopes and anticipations, " made of such 
 stuff as dreams are," performed an important office 
 in maintaining a state of equilibrium in the feelings, 
 which might otherwise have fallen into despondency 
 from oppressive doubts and regrets. The trip to Al- 
 bany was pleasant, the passengers on the packet 
 without any ceremony, falling into conversation upon 
 various subjects of general interest, and sometimes 
 amusing the way with pleasant anecdotes of individ- 
 uals or places, which, if they are not now immortal, 
 are in a fair way to become so. The passage down 
 the river, presents some of the most beautiful and 
 sublime scenery. The Catskill with their mountain 
 house, which appears like a snow-flake in the dis- 
 tance ; the Highlands laving their giant sides in the 
 river, and looking down with scorn upon puny men 
 with their toy steamboats floating around their feet ; 
 West Point, rocky, sterile, inaccessible, with its mili- 
 tary associations ; and the Palisades, which perhaps 
 might rival the Giant's Causeway, and other similar 
 wonders of the old world, all unite in giving a pecu- 
 liar interest to the scenery, which must be seen, to be 
 fully appreciated. 
 
 New York is full of curiosities to one fresh from 
 the country, like myself upon my first arrival; but 
 one gets so accustomed to it in a little while, as to pay 
 little attention to anything, except his own busi- 
 ness. After being here a few days in comfortable 
 
96 INKLINGS, 
 
 quarters, while wandering among the shipping in 
 East river, I was hailed by the captain of the ship 
 on which I happened to be standing, who wished me 
 to go below for a little private conversation. This 
 was complied with, though not without some misgiv- 
 ings as to his object and intentions. He surveyed me 
 with the eye of one accustomed to read man's character 
 from appearances, and seemed to know as much of 
 me from a single glance, as I did of myself, except- 
 ing some unimportant items of names and dates. He 
 says, "you are from the country, with a good educa- 
 tion, habits of industry, and correct moral principles." 
 How he came by his information was a mystery ; 
 perhaps, thinks I to myself, he has been to my stop- 
 ping place and learned something, which he intends 
 to enlarge upon for his own benefit. I gazed into his 
 face, but could read nothing. "Now," says he, "I am 
 a regular business man, not accustomed to palaver 
 and all that sort of thing. I command this craft, 
 and am bound for the West Indies. Would you like 
 to go along with me ? Think the matter over, and 
 give me a call to-morrow at ten o'clock ; next day I 
 leave port." Of course the matter was thought over, 
 and dreamed over, and thought over again, and the 
 hour of ten found me in presence of the captain. He 
 says ; " to relieve your^ mind of all anxiety concern- 
 ing my expectations, I will inform you, that you will 
 be subject to no orders relative to managing the ship, 
 will be expected, of course, not to stand in the way, 
 but assist a little, occasionally, after learning the Ian- 
 
INKLINGS. 97 
 
 guage and operations aboard ship, and will be expec- 
 ted to report to me anything within your knowledge, 
 which may, in your opinion, affect my own interest, 
 or that of the ship and cargo. Your business will be 
 to take my orders to the men, write for me, about 
 which you will receive all necessary instructions, and 
 be with me personally, much of the time. If this 
 suits you, I will give you one hundred dollars for the 
 trip, a sufficient amount now, to make preparations 
 for your personal comfort on the voyage, and for pro- 
 curing interesting and useful books, with which you 
 will have full liberty to entertain yourself during the 
 leisure hours. You will return this afternoon pre- 
 pared for the voyage, and be ready to sail in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 The proposals were accepted, and the remainder 
 of the day passed rapidly in preparing for the voyage. 
 We passed the Narrows the next day, and for the 
 first time in my life, I was rocked by the waves of 
 the wide Atlantic. For two or three days, sea-sick- 
 ness prevented my contemplations from extending 
 far beyond myself, and several days passed, before 
 the nautical phrases of the seamen sounded much 
 like intelligible language. Observation soon taught 
 me to associate ideas with the new dialect, and the 
 ship gradually assumed the appearance of an old ac- 
 quaintance. The captain was pleased with my im- 
 provement, and assisted me in various ways in be- 
 coming- familiar with my duties ; often leaving me in 
 perplexity about my position, varying from cabin-boy 
 
98 INKLINGS. 
 
 to common sailor, clerk, lieutenant, and general dep- 
 uty. One thing was certain, he placed great confi- 
 dence in me, and another thing equally true and 
 pleasant, was, that notwithstanding my multifarious 
 duties, a large amount of time was left for reading 
 and contemplation. To me it was delightful to hear 
 the sea-god blow his trumpet, and see the dashing 
 waves, like wheeling squadrons, answer to the blast. 
 The grandeur and sublimity of the scene would over- 
 power all thoughts of personal safety. We visited 
 several of the islands, remaining in different ports 
 several weeks. The fiist thing which arrested my 
 attention as a peculiarity, was the black population 
 which is much more numerous than the white. There 
 are many interesting peculiarities of climate, produc- 
 tion, law and custom, of the inhabitants, with which 
 I am not very familiar, and besides, have not a place 
 to devote to them, for the last page of my sheet ad- 
 monishes me to use my ink with economy. 
 
 We returned to New- York with such success and 
 mutual satisfaction, that the captain made proposals 
 to me for repeating the trip, offering greater induce- 
 ments than for the first voyage. Before leaving New- 
 York the second time, a long letter was written you, 
 requesting an answer directed here three months 
 from date. You probably never received the letter, 
 at any rate, the reply has never come to me. The 
 captain and myself became such firm friends, that 
 on my second return, after declining a life longer on 
 the fickle waves, he introduced me to a clerkship 
 
INKLINGS. 99 
 
 here, where I receive a good salary, and hope, by 
 strict attention to business, to keep the post at my 
 disposal. 1 would like to hear from you as soon as 
 you can give me all the news, after receiving this. 
 Give my best respects to all inquiring friends. Some 
 of my schoolmates are remembered with pleasure, 
 and you will of course give them my love, and in- 
 form me about them. Dear Parents, Brothers and 
 Sisters, one and all, good-by. 
 
 From your affectionate 
 
 WILLIAM. 
 
 The short silence of busy thought which followed 
 the reading of this letter, was interrupted by an ani- 
 mated conversation that continued until the extin- 
 guished lights in the neighborhood reminded them of 
 the usual hour of repose. The next morning, as the 
 sound of the Sabbath bell was borne along by the 
 passing breeze, swelling to melodious fullness, and 
 then, in its dying cadence, sighing a requiem over the 
 departed year, a thought of the absent one, who had 
 often listened to its music, came mingling with the 
 sound ; and fancy wove her golden tissue which 
 made the earth seem more beautiful than spring with 
 all its enchantment, while that sound was converted 
 by anxiety into the knell of hope. It was impossi- 
 ble to restrain the intense interest of the younger 
 members of the Johnson family from breaking out 
 spontaneously, even in Sunday School, and communi- 
 
100 INKLINGS. 
 
 eating various information to their young compan- 
 ions, upon the favorite subject of the late news from 
 the commercial emporium. Winged messengers 
 seemed to bear the news through the whole of that 
 little community, and the various versions of the sto- 
 ry, embellished by the varying fancy of individuals, 
 made the whole affair assume forms which must have 
 been bewildering to any one imagination. Here, 
 shipwreck and dire disaster were mingled with the 
 account ; there, a princely fortune and the unbound- 
 ed confidence of men possessing boundless wealth. 
 One boy in the village was heard to say, that he. 
 William Johnson, had been all over the world, and 
 in the course of his travels had visited a country of 
 cannibals ; he and the captain of the ship had per- 
 suaded the king of the country and his court to drink 
 largely of wine, with which drugs had been mingled, 
 and during their sleepy intoxication had managed to 
 take from the palace and carry to the ship several 
 cart-loads of gold and dimonds ; and since their re- 
 turn to New- York, where they were received with 
 all the honors bestowed upon royalty, they had done 
 nothing but eat oranges and raisins, drink wine, and 
 smoke cigars, with a few of the most distinguished 
 men of the place. Those who wished correct infor- 
 mation, called of course where it could be obtained ; 
 and it was a pleasure to the parents to read the letter 
 to neighbors and old acquaintances, and converse 
 about their absent son. Several of his school-mates 
 called, expressed their interest in the news, and wish- 
 
INKLINGS. 101 
 
 ed their compliments sent to him. Grace was absent 
 attending school, but returned within a few days to 
 pass the holidays. The merry Christmas with which 
 Mrs. Johnson greeted her on her arrival, caused a 
 contest between the white and red rose for the pos- 
 session of features radiant with pleasure ; and the 
 sparkling brilliancy of her eyes, proved, that to one 
 at least, she must be a diamond of the first water. 
 During her visit, which was no unusual thing there, 
 she read the letter, inspected the writing, which at 
 first caused a passing doubt as to its genuineness, and 
 then in all its improvement, detected a trace of that 
 hand with which she had been familiar ; conversed 
 about him with an interest which proved her sincerity 
 and confidence, and frankly confessed to Mrs. John- 
 son, the pleasure with which his return would be 
 hailed, who had always seemed to her like a broth- 
 er. The mystery about his fortune since leaving 
 home, was all connected with Captain Underhill, 
 who subsequently acknowledged to William the close 
 resemblance between him and a nephew from " the 
 land of steady habits," who had died while on a voy- 
 age with him, a few month's previous to his introduc- 
 tion to the reader. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Forgive, forgive the truant Muse, 
 The thoughts she may not tell ; 
 
 For she perverse, does now refuse 
 To sing the lovely belle. 
 
 Yet beauty's praise has oft been sung, 
 With eyes of heavenly blue, 
 
 And coral lips that raptures wrung, 
 From constant hearts and true. 
 
 But beauty fades, the coral lip 
 
 Must wither like the rose ; 
 
 And love's young dream the nectar sip, 
 Long ere the day may close. 
 
 Be mine the task, a boon to ask, 
 
 A priceless boon to crave ; 
 In memory's sunny spot to bask, 
 
 In its fresh fountain lave. 
 
INKLINGS. 103 
 
 The wealth and magnificence displayed in the 
 higher circles of city life, and which necessarily ccme 
 within the observation of those who revolve in hum- 
 bler spheres, have often dazzled and inflamed weak 
 eyes, unaccustomed to the brilliancy. The splendor 
 and attractions which money can bestow, when ap- 
 plied with taste and skill, have been known to oblit- 
 erate the fixed principles taught in early life by the 
 fireside of republican descendants, who lived with- 
 out ostentation, contented with the comforts of life, 
 and more interested in the welfare of their country 
 and its free institutions, than in the glittering tinsel 
 of any personal display. William Johnson was not 
 insensible to all the attractions around him, for he 
 possessed a deeply susceptible nature, but he viewed 
 them with a philosophic eye : quickly practiced in the 
 * great school of the world. His business relieved him 
 from many temptations, and if he wished for wealth, 
 amid the evidences of luxury which surrounded him 
 on all sides, that wish was attended with a desire to 
 improve his mind, assist friends, and relieve that dis- 
 tress which pines away a miserable existence. His 
 employer had, in compliance with his request, intro- 
 duced him to a few with whom he might associate 
 without any fear of contaminating his principles or 
 compromising his honor, and his recreations were con- 
 fined to an occasional ramble about town, or an ex- 
 cursion of a few miles from the city, for fresh air and 
 exercise, in which these acquaintances soon became 
 companions. This relaxation from the care and la- 
 
104 INKLINGS, 
 
 bor of business, was considered absolutely necessary 
 for the preservation of health. In his leisure hours 
 he often thought of his home and the companions of 
 his youth, and with pleasure anticipated the time 
 when he might return, freighted with all his wishes. 
 In the interim his anxiety was relieved by letters from 
 home, which were faithful chronicles of events at 
 Greenville, containing, among other things, a full ac- 
 count of his quondam friend and boon companion, 
 John Vernon. The latter had told Julia Brown, soon 
 after William's departure, that he knew very well the 
 cause of his leaving, although it had never been told 
 him in words. He would return some day and be in- 
 troduced to Grace, just the same as if he had never 
 seen her; and what would follow that introduction, 
 any one could guess. He was going to see the world 
 too, but then he was not going such a round about 
 way ; he should act as agent for some insurance com- 
 pany, or get into some such business, travel a few 
 hundred miles in that part of the State, and return 
 home. He considered the world very much like a 
 large kettle full of all kinds of vegetables, boiled to- 
 gether, and seasoned indiscriminately with butter, 
 salt, pepper, nutmeg, vinegar and molasses ; the fla- 
 vor of one might be spoiled by its contact with 
 another, and the seasoning proper for one, might give 
 the other a disrelish unpalatable ; and after being all 
 stewed together, one could scarcely be distinguished 
 from the other. If this proved to be true, he should 
 soon be satisfied with travel, for he considered him- 
 
INKLINGS. 105 
 
 self as good as pumpkin pie, any way: and did not 
 wish that spoiled by any beet and vinegar compounds. 
 Julia laughed, because it was impossible to do other- 
 wise, notwithstanding his assumed seriousness, and 
 frequently thought of his comparison during his first 
 tour of six weeks' absence from home. 
 
 There had been few changes at Greenville. The 
 changing seasons brought few changes to its inhabi- 
 tants. The sun rose and set, sunshine followed 
 storm, spring succeeded winter, the one seemed to be 
 the prelude to the other. Time passed gently by 
 them, and scarcely left a vestige of his footsteps ; and 
 yet there had been a few changes, in this peaceful, 
 quiet, little community. Some had gone to the far 
 west, some had embarked in business in other places, 
 and the plain, marble slab in the church-yard, told 
 the final resting place of a few from their earthly 
 labors. The inclosure, bordering upon a natural 
 grove, where the little birds sung their lays of hope, 
 and the wild rose shed its fragrance, was a lovely 
 spot for a quiet ramble, where the contemplations al- 
 most instinctively had less of earth than heaven in 
 them, and where every thing around would enlist the 
 tender feelings in favor of the silent tenants of the 
 place, although beyond the hopes and fears which 
 sway the bosom of mortals left behind them. 
 
 Green be the grass above their head ; 
 May wild-flowers bloom around their bed, 
 And untaught songsters of the grove } 
 
106 INKLINGS. 
 
 While through green bowers they gayly rove, 
 
 Stop near, and oft a requiem sing, 
 
 While for a loftier flight, they plume the wing ! 
 
 The trees, brooks, hills and fields remained the 
 same, and even the buildings, fences and things of 
 that kind, remained with very little alteration ; and 
 a few familiar faces had remained there so long, that 
 they seemed to form a part of the landscape. The 
 Deacon continued to be a deacon, and appeared the 
 same to young men, that he had been when they 
 were little school-boys. The Squire seemed to have 
 expanded a little with his intellectual growth, and 
 appeared more interesting, for this intermixture of the 
 ancient and modern man. The worthy Parson had 
 never been accustomed to hurl thunder-bolts at his 
 peaceful, little flock ; and as years rolled away, the 
 children were christened, the young people married, 
 and the bereaved comforted with that genuine Chris- 
 tian sympathy which springs from a benevolent 
 heart, he had become, not only an index to point them 
 to the narrow way, but a neighbor and friend. The 
 brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews and nieces of those 
 who had formerly received the rudiments from Master 
 Birch, now formed the little community of hopefuls, 
 who would, at some future day, wield the destiny of 
 Greenville. The Boniface of the inn, seemed like 
 old wine, to improve with age. He had certainly 
 improved his fund of anecdotes and general informa- 
 tion, his improvement being similar to certain house- 
 
LNKLINGS. 107 
 
 hold articles coming in contact with chalk and buck- 
 skin. The inn continued to be a notable place for 
 public days and performances, the half-tragic serious- 
 ness and anxiety of the aforesaid individual to please 
 his guests, and his urbanity to his neighbors, secured 
 for him a reputation which extended as far as some 
 of the neighboring villages. Fate might cut the web 
 which fancy weaves of the future with such glowing 
 colors, but could not deprive them of the enjoyment 
 of its gaudy hues, beautiful in ruins. The little com- 
 munity lived in a world of its own, free from most of 
 the vices which luxury engenders, and free from those 
 artificial wants which it creates. There are excep- 
 tions to all general rules, and no general description 
 can particularize every individual of a community ; 
 but exceptions are said to confirm a general rule. 
 Were it not inconsistent with the plan of the work, a 
 more particular description of various individuals 
 might be given, with their manners, modes of life and 
 peculiarities ; but this must be passed, to give place 
 to the finale of this hasty sketch. 
 
 The Johnson family were frequently conversing 
 about their absent member in New York, wondering 
 what he was doing at the time they were talking 
 about him, how much he had changed in appearance 
 since leaving, when they should get the next letter 
 from him, and when he would come home to see them 
 once more. The younger members of the family had 
 grown so much in his absence, that he might not 
 know them ; and it was possible that William would 
 
108 iNKLrxas. 
 
 be so metamorphosed by age and city life, that he 
 could not be recognized by his own relations. These 
 things, and others of similar character, had been 
 thoroughly discussed a thousand times, without los- 
 ing any of their interest. After an absence of seven 
 years, they received the long expected epistle, an- 
 nouncing his intention of returning home. The let- 
 ter was very interesting to the family, but was of that 
 private nature w r hich w r ould give it little interest to 
 the general reader, excepting the following, closing 
 lines, which may be worth the place they fill. 
 
 ' ; Tell the neighbors and friends who live around home, 
 That while a lone pilgrim the wide world I roam, 
 In fancy's bright regions my thoughts love to stray, 
 To worlds of my own, when the world was all gay ; 
 When the fresh spring-time of life knew no sorrow, 
 "Was without a lingering thought of to-morrow, 
 And saw but the rose with its beauties revealed, 
 Bat never the thorn which beneath was concealed.' ' 
 
 I really believe the boy is homesick ! was Mrs. 
 Johnson's first exclamation after reading it. Two or 
 three bright-eyed little girls said, they would try to 
 drive that away from him ; and their father remarked 
 that his son's return was a source of real pleasure to 
 him, and he hoped they would all try to make it 
 agreeable, without overwhelming him w T ith compli- 
 ments and caresses on his arrival which, his long ab- 
 
INKLINGS. 109 
 
 sence and city habits, as well as their own appear- 
 ance, that would without doubt seem rustic to him at 
 first, might prove embarrassing to all. Time flies 
 swiftly when the heart is warm with gladness, and 
 the intervening space is noted along the way, as the 
 distance from the goal of its wishes. Grace was no 
 disinterested listener to the news which vibrated the 
 tongue and heart of the chattering little Johnsons, 
 who first brought her the news of his return, who, 
 ]ong embalmed in memory, and associated with the 
 sunny days of childhood and youth, had become her 
 beau ideal of excellence. No news could be altogeth- 
 er new or unexpected to one, whose varying fancy 
 had interwoven him with every fortune known in the 
 history of man, from poverty to princely wealth, and 
 who loved to remember him in every position in 
 which he had been placed before her. But now, 
 when the embodiment of long-cherished hopes and 
 wishes was to be presented before her in all its living 
 realities, an occasional cloud would pass over the sky 
 of her prospects. Half afraid to soar, even in imagi- 
 nation, to that felicity which seemed to await her, like 
 the new-fledged eagle perched upon a cliff which 
 overlooks the sea, now viewing the commotion of the 
 waves, the shore, mountains and undulating fields, 
 then, turning to the source of day, where azure fields 
 beckon onward and upward, fearful, yet eager for the 
 flight ; so she, hoping, wishing, doubtful, fearful, grew 
 giddy with the depth which lay beneath the heaven 
 of her wishes. 
 
 6 
 
110 INKLINGS. 
 
 William had informed the few companions of his 
 leisure hours, that he intended to depart for the land 
 of his nativity, accepted an invitation to accompany 
 them in a farewell ramble over scenes where hours 
 had passed pleasantly, in a friendly interchange of 
 thought and sentiment, received and returned their 
 sentiments of congratulation and esteem, gave the 
 parting hand to his employer with reciprocal good 
 wishes, gave one parting look to the city, as it rece- 
 ded in the distance, his thoughts without restraint 
 wandering over his past life, and finally settling 
 around the green bower of home. The usual inci- 
 dents of the way served to rouse him from a pleasing 
 revery, in which he indulged during the passage to 
 the scenes of his childhood and youth, which were 
 deeply graven on the tablet of his memory. His per- 
 sonal appearance had changed during his absence. 
 He had laid aside the youth, and put on the man, 
 well developed in all his proportions. An acquaint- 
 ance with the world had caused the embarrassing ap- 
 pearance of youth, bordering upon timidity, to disap- 
 pear, and had given an easy and inviting turn to his 
 manners, the natural result of an acquaintance with 
 men in the various positions of society. His clothes 
 were of that kind which would not attract particular 
 attention in the city, but in the rural retreat of Green- 
 ville, may expose him to the imputation of foppish- 
 ness, although he thought as little of those now worn 
 as he did of those worn in his youthful days. He 
 was greeted with the usual welcome on his arrival 
 
INKLINGS. HI 
 
 home, but he seemed more like a gentleman from New 
 York, on a visit to the country, than their long-absent 
 son. This impression soon disappeared around the 
 fireside of home, where the scenes of former days 
 were discussed, interspersed with incidents of travel, 
 which served to link the present and the past. He 
 informed his friends, that by industry and economy 
 he had accumulated, not a splendid fortune, but what 
 he considered a competence ; had seen something of 
 the world, and obtained a fund for various, useful 
 and interesting contemplations ; and possessing a pas- 
 sion for rural life, increased by his personal knowl- 
 edge of the care and trouble of commercial transac- 
 tions, he intended to pass the remainder of his days 
 in rural felicity, which approached the nearest to pri- 
 meval bliss, of any thing within the range of his im- 
 agination, that could be made practically available. 
 He was enthusiastic in praising the country, there 
 was so much misery and vice in a large city, to shock 
 the sensibilities and degrade the dignity of human 
 i nature ; here, was pure air and freedom from a feeling 
 of restraint, and nature's scenery inviting to peaceful, 
 quiet contemplation, where life flows on tranquilly, 
 without any of those rude shocks which make the 
 blood congeal around the heart. Man made the city, 
 but God made the country ; and there was little pleas- 
 ure for him in brick and mortar walls, though reared 
 in splendid proportions and decorated with a polish- 
 ed exterior, when compared with the green hill-side 
 of his native town, with its feathered songster starting 
 
112 INKLINGS. 
 
 from brake or bush to shake the dew-drop from its 
 wing, and bathing in the morning sun, adding its 
 chorus to the deep, gentle music of the neighboring 
 waterfall. He had been at home several days, view- 
 ed those familiar scenes of former times, clustering 
 with associations of the past, seen many of his neigh- 
 bors and former companions, and yet a shade of care 
 and anxiety would, now and then, for a moment rest 
 upon his brow, as if some bird of evil omen had pass- 
 ed before his mental vision. One afternoon, while 
 he was gone to the post-office, to deposite a memento 
 for those he had left in the busy city, Grace might 
 have been seen entering a well known, little gate in 
 front of Mr. Johnson's, where she was met by a noble 
 mastiff and escorted to the door, being re-paid for his 
 courtesy, by a gentle caress from a hand he loved, 
 and seemed proud of the honor of protecting. When 
 William returned from the village, he was informed 
 that an old acquaintance and friend was in the next 
 room, where he was formally presented ; an hour or 
 two passing quietly away, with a few common re- 
 marks and inquiries. When the sun was setting, 
 painting the fleecy clouds with scarlet, purple and 
 violet, each from the deepest dye softening and fading 
 into invisibility, he needed no prompting about hat 
 and gloves, as Grace prepared for her departure. 
 We do not suppose, that what was said during the 
 walk, was highly intellectual or philosophical, and 
 yet it might have possessed that magical power at- 
 tributed to eloquence of the highest order. There 
 
INKLINGS 113 
 
 was eloquence in "Nature's vernal smile," in the gor- 
 geous sunset, and the gray twilight of the fading 
 west ; and if busy thought, wrapt in the contempla- 
 tion of the scene, forgot to break the enchanting spell 
 which bound it, it required no effort to forgive the 
 negligence. In the course of human events which 
 followed this re-union of long-separated friends, Wil- 
 liam became a frequent visitor at neighbor Garland's, 
 until his absence caused a vacuum in their little so- 
 cial circle, which was replaced with cheerfulness by 
 his presence, dispersing the shade of saddened thought 
 that will sometimes settle around the deep quiet of 
 an isolated home. Few weeks had elapsed since his 
 return, before busy rumor circulated the news of the 
 intended marriage of those, who had innocently laid 
 a foundation for the suspicion, and they were relieved 
 from part of the embarrassment attending the prelim- 
 inary arrangement, by the kind interference of friends. 
 The nuptial ceremony, which took place at the home 
 of Grace, was witnessed by a large collection of 
 neighbors, and friends. The Parson and Deacon, 
 the Squire and Boniface, and many young associates 
 were present, all in the best of spirits. John Vernon 
 and Julia Brown officiated in a well known capacity 
 upon the occasion, and to some bantering remarks 
 about marrying, John replied, that he always kept a 
 place in the back parlor of his memory for rural 
 beauty, and when the sign got into the hands, he 
 should consider it perfectly safe to tie the Gordian 
 knot, which had sometimes been hacked in two, but 
 
114 INKLINGS. 
 
 never yet had been untied. Boniface proposed as a 
 toast — a long life and a happy one to the married 
 pair — which was received with all the applause suit- 
 able to the time and place. In the midst of the in- 
 troductions, congratulations and compliments which 
 followed the ceremony, Mrs. Johnson found time to 
 whisper to William ; " I suppose you have found a 
 rose without a thorn." " Clouds and sunshine form 
 the rainbow," was his reply. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE SKEPTIC. 
 
 Who would be a skeptic 1 The order, harmony, 
 And beauty of all around, forbid it. 
 "Order is heaven's first law." Nor need we ask 
 For faith to mount with seraph above the 
 Rolling sphere which we inhabit, to behold 
 It matchless. The daily motion of the 
 Earth upon her axle, her yearly wheeling 
 Eound the sun, even the motion of her 
 Icy poles, declares it. We see it in 
 Yerdant spring, in blooming summer, in golden 
 Autumn, and in dreary winter. Each in 
 Turn with order rules the varied year. 
 And did not order teach us to expect the 
 Blast of winter, the cold winds which whistle 
 Over the recent sickled harvest, would 
 Seem to sing our funeral dirge, and smiling 
 
116 INKLINGS. 
 
 Spring succeeding with its rich prospect, would 
 
 Cause our hearts to leap with joy. But unceasing 
 
 Order rules the changing seasons, tempers 
 
 Spring's pleasures with thoughts of future change, and 
 
 Softens the harshness of the howling tempest, 
 
 With the sweet prospect of returning bloom. 
 
 " Order is Heaven's first law ;" nor is it 
 
 Only to be found in the rolling spheres 
 
 And changing seasons. Earth, teeming with her 
 
 Millions, innumerable in form and 
 
 Nature, speaks the infinity of order. 
 
 The hoary ocean with its finny tribes, 
 
 Lofty mountains whose towering summits pierce the 
 
 Sky, wide extended valleys with waving 
 
 Fields and pleasant prospects, filled with every 
 
 Grade of being ; Asia's frozen plains and 
 
 Afric's burning sands, the tropics with their 
 
 Monsters, and polar snows, with beings clad 
 
 In nature's robes, — all, all, earth, sea and sky, 
 
 Is stamped with the presence of eternal 
 
 Wisdom and eternal order. From the 
 
 Smallest insect that flutters in the summer 
 
 Breeze, to man, creation's lord, the noblest 
 
 Of creation's works, (though since his fall stript 
 
 Of many a manly attribute, none greater 
 
 Than that simplicity which spoke without 
 
 Reserve the workings of his heart,) how wonderful, 
 
 How perfect the mechanism of earth's great 
 
INKLINGS. 117 
 
 Architect ! The Globe that we inhabit, 
 
 With its oceans and its lofty mountains, 
 
 Which seem to us so vast, is but a unit 
 
 In her harmonious system ; her sister 
 
 Venus, who twinkles in loveliness in 
 
 The gray twilight of the fading west, her 
 
 Brother Herschel, that with six moons in more 
 
 Than eighty years performs his tedious journey, 
 
 And Saturn, whose sky is paved with sunshine, 
 
 And Jupiter, the monarch of the moving 
 
 System, whose huge bulk equals thrice five hundred 
 
 Of his sister Earth, perform their wonted 
 
 Journey around the dazzling orb of day. 
 
 Each pursues its destined course, true as the 
 
 Needle to the pole. Each revolves upon 
 
 Its axle, that Sol's cheering rays may visit 
 
 All its kingdoms and its people. All move 
 
 On in harmony, each in its destined 
 
 Place. But whence are they ? Who gave them form so 
 
 Nicely fitted for their motion, and motion, 
 
 That force centripetal should balance its 
 
 Opposing force, and each forever fill 
 
 The circle marked by Heaven ? Chance ! Can chance 
 
 Produce ? Has skeptic ever seen a grain 
 
 Of sand which chance has made 7 Then yield to reason, 
 
 Though finite can never grasp infinity, 
 
 And say, the hand which made, gave them their unfelt 
 
 Motion, and their Creator, as all who 
 
 6 # 
 
118 INKLINGS. 
 
 Ponder will admit, was, and must have been, 
 Omnipotent and good. But we need not 
 "Wander into space's boundless regions, 
 Where primaries with their attendant orbs, 
 Move in solemn silence round day's great luminary, 
 Through trackless ether in their penciled paths. 
 Earth has enough to tune the lyre, for ages 
 Yet to come. Her store is boundless. Her waving 
 Forests, verdant fields, fragile flowers ; her shining 
 Ores, crystals and pearls ; her thousand, different, 
 Breathing forms that " wing the sky," or walk the 
 Plain, or dart with instinct through the yielding 
 Flood, have oft been sung in numbers sweet ; and 
 Yet the store is boundless. Who could exhaust 
 Earth's curious treasure ? or who could tell all 
 Nature's beauties ? There is not a path that 
 Poet ever traversed, but has unculled 
 Flowers — has beauties in reserve — to tempt 
 Her votaries to ascend and sit with 
 Those whom she has honored. She spreads her wealth 
 Before his wondering gaze, for man to study 
 And admire, and through her lovely works look 
 Upward^ and adore the boundless wisdom 
 Of her lovely Author. 
 
 But man has ever been man's favorite theme. 
 He delights to feast upon the beauties 
 Of nature's scenery, to watch the pinioned 
 Eagle, as it soars above the reach of 
 
INKLINGS. 119 
 
 Clouds and storms ; the dashing spray of mountain 
 
 Rill, as it tumbles headlong from a neighboring 
 
 Height ; the stately forest, as it bends its 
 
 Leafy boughs before the rising gale ; the 
 
 Gentle music of the valley stream, as 
 
 Its playful tenants leap from its ripling bosom. 
 
 These he views with pleasure. But he is pleased, 
 
 Delighted, amazed, bewildered, when he 
 
 Turns from these, to contemplate, in his own 
 
 M3 T sterious self, the matchless skill displayed 
 
 In heaven's great master-piece. Strange, complex 
 
 Being, man ! " Midway from nothing to the 
 
 Deity !" " Connecting link of brute and 
 
 Seraph," uniting in himself extremes 
 
 That dupe his own credulity ! " Mortal, 
 
 Immortal, good, evil, neither, both." Endowed 
 
 With reason to temper his wishes and 
 
 His desires to moderate, to cool his 
 
 Passions and animate his sloth. Free, noble 
 
 Gift ! Heaven's dearest legacy ! Free, or 
 
 Else Sovereign Wisdom has said, thou shalt not, 
 
 And then compels the act. 
 
120 INKLINGS. 
 
 TEE CAUSE. 
 
 I saw the progeny of Adam all engaged 
 
 In one turmoil, as if the object which 
 
 They were destined to accomplish, was to 
 
 Impede each other's progress, and strew each other's 
 
 Path with thorns. And long and many were the 
 
 Musings which this scene caused, and deep the reveries 
 
 To unfold the mysterious operation of man's kindling passions. 
 
 Strange being, man ! surprising strange ! In that 
 
 Breast where gentleness, kind wishes, and good 
 
 Feelings, now hold a momentary sway, 
 
 In that same bosom may soon be heard the 
 
 Billows of passion's stormy sea, tossing 
 
 Frail reason's bark from surge to surge, or sinking 
 
 It submerged beneath the waves. Those lips, which 
 
 Now distill their honeyed sweets, those very 
 
 Lips, to morrow may o'erflow with imprecations 
 
 Dire, such as would best befit the host of 
 
 Satan, when hurled by the archangel from 
 
 Heaven's high battlements. Those eyes, that now 
 
 "With luster sparkle, which bespeaks the reign 
 
 Of joy within, those eyes, may kindle with 
 
 A flame not lighted at the shrines of earth, 
 
 Or heaven. I mused, and thought, and mused again. 
 
 Who could bequeath their race such legacy as this ? 
 
INKLINGS. 1 21 
 
 Why could not man enjoy perpetual sunshine ? 
 
 I summoned memory to her office, and 
 
 Bid her travel through the winding scenes of time, 
 
 And solve this mystery. "When, lo ! she, ever 
 
 Faithful to her charge, unlocked the secret! 
 
 An apple was the cause, and woman the offender. 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Far, far to the west, where the waves of Pacific 
 Lave the shores of a country by nature prolific ; 
 Where the mild zephyr greets, from the isles of the ocean, 
 The brow of the weary one, tossed with commotion ; 
 Where the rays of the sun, first crossing the mountains, 
 Glide down with the streams from their high mossy fountains 5 
 Where sun, moon and stars, and all nature the while. 
 Seem wreathed by some magic in one bonny smile ; — 
 There, there's El Dorado, of the furthest far- west ; 
 The wished land of the weary, sweet home of the blest, 
 Dame Nature has mixed with the river's vile sand, 
 Throughout a large tract of this far-famous land, 
 Gold, gold, yellow gold, summum bonum of man $ 
 Wise, stupid or foolish, deny if you can, 
 
122 INKLINGS. 
 
 "What though in the visions of deep midnight-dreams. 
 No domes there may glitter in SoPs sinking beams, 
 And Yulcan has forged there the bolt for high Jove 
 To hurl on the poor that in other lands rove, 
 And round o'er the land, lofty mountains may rise, 
 And mingle their summits with blue spangled skies ; 
 Though dreaded disease, from the land of the sun. 
 And far distant regions, may even there come ; 
 When it thrives on the nerves and bewilders the brain, 
 Makes man feel the anguish and torture of pain. 
 Though friends are away, and no one may be nigh, 
 To relieve his distress by imparting a sigh; — 
 Yet, with pockets filled with the nice, yellow gold, 
 If weary and hungry, and chilled with the cold, 
 He may smile at others by fortune less favored, 
 Whose suppers, perhaps, may not be so well savored ; 
 But will he be able, with his thousands of pelf, 
 Always to be merry, and to laugh at himself? — 
 The great question of gold is a sore vexing case. 
 Which is often debated with sober long face. 
 The poor know too well the worth of the creature, 
 In most of its forms, in every rich feature, 
 Yet are happier far, in my estimation, 
 Than the rich, who are troubled with its vexation. 
 If a competence here is all we enjoy, 
 Sure more than this, must many pleasures destroy. 
 Gold makes man a murderer, robber and thief, 
 Makes friends quarrel often, and causes much grief; 
 
INKLINGS. 123 
 
 And if. as the wise say, of evil the root, 
 Dig not the vile weed, let it grow under foot. 
 
 Had I the gold of all that place. 
 And all contained within the space 
 
 Of India, East and "West ; 
 Would give it all without a thought. 
 And think the treasure cheaply bought, 
 
 The treasure of the blest : 
 Blest with a friend, both true and kind, 
 Which frozen climes can scarcely find, 
 
 Or find but to destroy ; 
 A friend, forgetful of his store, 
 A friend well skilled in worldly lore, 
 
 A friend without alloy. 
 
 TIME. 
 
 In tHe morn of creation, when slumbers awoke 
 From the darkness of chaos, and beauty first spoke. 
 And gay, flowery arbors enchanted the scene, 
 Like the bright tinseled vision of some fairy queen ;- 
 
124 INKLINGS. 
 
 Old Time then was young, fair, and sporting in bowers, 
 
 Sipt nectar ambrosial from all the sweet flowers. 
 
 Old Time was a boy, and with bright laughing eye, 
 
 Viewed all the fair scene without knowing a sigh. 
 
 His form was erect, and his brow then was fair; 
 
 Time, Time, no wrinkles were then written there ! 
 
 His inward perception was clear and sublime, 
 
 It had not been dimmed or benumbed by a crime. 
 
 The earth on its axis rolled changes around, 
 
 Not such as at present, yet changes profound ; 
 
 The tint of the rose had suffused his fair face, 
 
 The air of young manhood had taken the place 
 
 Of the gay smiling boy, and with thoughts busy now, 
 
 On the wide world around he made him a vow, 
 
 To visit its places, its people to see, 
 
 And whatever else in the world there might be. 
 
 One lingering look to enchantment around him, 
 
 One last adieu to those scenes which surround him. 
 
 Streamlet, grove and bower, 
 Gemmed with many a flower ; 
 
 Farewell ! 
 Music and your fragrance, 
 May cause a sigh to vagrants ; 
 
 Farewell ! 
 Thoughts of you will cheer me, 
 Whatever may be near me 5 
 
 Farewell ! 
 
INKLINGS. 125 
 
 Change has marked his progress, since he first began 
 To travel round the world, and see his brother man. 
 He has dined with princes, and made his evening meal, 
 Amid war's thundering roar, and fearful bristling steel. 
 Names written on earth's towers, the highest in the land, 
 Time glances, passes, they are written in the sand. 
 He never has paused, except on Gibeon's height ; 
 His way is the eagle's, descending in its flight. 
 Time, forget thy course, and stay awhile thy woes ! 
 Let kindness make us glad, and we will not be foes. 
 He heeds not the prayer by the suppliant given, 
 Though forced from a heart that by anguish is riven ; 
 His course is still onward, and onward forever, 
 Though earth's dearest ties, he ruthless may sever I 
 
 FOR A FRIEND. 
 
 Some sing the beauties of the verdant field, 
 When Spring attires them in its gaudy dress ? 
 
 And sweetly sing the pleasures which they yield 3 
 And tell with rapture of their power to bless. 
 
126 INKLING?. 
 
 Some chant the blushing morn with purple hue, 
 When Sol first rises in the glowing east, 
 
 Or the rich prospect fading from the view, 
 When he declines behind the burnished west. 
 
 Others see charms in all the flowery race, 
 Whose opening petals with effulgence glow ; 
 
 Each a fit emblem of some kindred grace, 
 Or kindest feeling we can ever know. 
 
 But neither verdant field nor blushing morn, 
 Nor all the fancied charms that flowers impart, 
 
 Can yield such pleasure, as a lovely form, 
 And sweet communion with a kindred heart. 
 
 TO A BIRD IN SPRING. 
 
 Sweet warbler of day's early dawn ! 
 
 Whence has thy flight been taken ? 
 From landscapes fair, and dewy lawn, 
 
 Our slumbers to awaken ? 
 
INKLINGS. 127 
 
 Fair tenant of the verdant bough ! 
 
 "Why sing no note of sadness ; 
 Hast never made one solemn vow, 
 
 To wreck thee of thy gladness 1 
 
 Pure innocent ! Could I but wing 
 
 High in the air my flight sublime ; 
 I too. with thee would soar and sing, 
 
 Thoughtless of all but present time ! 
 
 It may not be. so fare thee well 
 
 Sweet, fair and innocent to see ; 
 Thy song has made my bosom swell 
 
 "With transport not unknown to thee ! 
 
 FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 While here are strung the pearls of thought. 
 
 And names you dearly prize, 
 Mine may perchance be counted naught, 
 
 By those known to be wise ; 
 And yet, in counting o'er the string, 
 
 Through haste and great surprise, 
 It may be called the real thing, 
 
 "Which I would not despise. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The following Disputations were prepared at dif- 
 ferent times and for various occasions, and adding a 
 little to that variety which is called the spice of life, 
 it is hoped they may be acceptable ; at any rate, they 
 are debatable : 
 
 IS THE BEADING OF WORKS OF FICTION BENE- 
 FICIAL? 
 
 In making an excursion into a country hitherto 
 unexplored by me in the field of debate, the assist- 
 ance of companions may be necessary in pulling 
 down prominences, filling up cavities, and especially 
 in building bridges over such streams as may be too 
 wide or too deep to be passed without them. And 
 let me entreat you to throw the mantle of charity 
 over your prejudices, and proceed to its investigation 
 
INKLINGS. 129 
 
 with that " sober, second thought" which the impor- 
 portance of the subject demands ; and without that 
 fanatical bigotry with which it has sometimes been 
 assailed on one side, or that obscene familiarity with 
 which it has been courted, on the other. Man pre- 
 sents a subject replete with interest for his own con- 
 templation, both in his physical construction, and in 
 that more wonderful organization of his mental and 
 moral powers ; and these are all so intimately con- 
 nected, that each performs not only its own office, 
 but assists or retards its neighbor and dependent. 
 In those nobler characteristics which distinguish him 
 from the brutes that perish, he presents a theme sub- 
 lime as creation, and boundless as the universe. In 
 the commencement of his existence, it is true that he 
 has only the capacity to learn, but that capacity 
 grows with his growth, strengthens with his strength, 
 expands with his inquiries ; and man may not place 
 bounds to the endless extension of his power. Be- 
 ginning with creation's dawn, he can travel through 
 all the winding scenes of time ; live with the patri- 
 arch's of old, converse with the philosophers, sing 
 with the poets, and listen to the voice of the past, 
 which echoes from the mouldering ruins of empires, 
 the causes of their decline and downfall. Yet man's 
 perceptive powers are not the most ennobling charac- 
 teristics of his nature : he possesses fancy, imagination, 
 genius ; the power to make new arrangements from 
 old combinations ; the power of the limner to unite 
 in one breathing portrait the excellencies of a thou- 
 
130 INKLINGS. 
 
 sand individuals, omitting their defects ; the power 
 of arranging sound with such sweet cadence, that it 
 melts in delicious music on the ear ; the power which 
 makes the "dull, cold marble*' speak of love, pity 
 and adoration. This is genius. This is fancy dis- 
 tilled in his intellectual alembic, whose feelings have 
 power to kindle the flame. Reason is the helm with 
 which fancy guides her fairy bark, over unexplored 
 seas. She enthrones man upon the arch of the rain- 
 bow, to rule the spirits which she summons from " the 
 vasty deep." She leads him through fields fairer 
 than ever bloomed, groves more beautiful than ever 
 waved their foliage in the breeze, landscapes more 
 enchanting than ever met the vision, palaces more 
 gaudy than were ever the abodes of princes ; and 
 after conducting him over all the imagery of earth, 
 as if confined within too narrow limits, she bids him 
 traverse the regions of the Queen of night, who 
 greets us with her silver beams, and the dazzling lu- 
 minary whose rays the eagle's eye alone can pene- 
 trate, and all the planets which revolve around him ; 
 thence she directs his course to other suns and other 
 worlds, till wearied with the flight, at last she seeks 
 her native earth. O, who can describe the potency 
 of that magic wand, with which she waves into ex- 
 istence the uncreated beings of her power ! She 
 teaches man by parables, dreams and allegories, and 
 he reasons upon her visions with the certain deduc- 
 tions of logic. She places him in ten thousand dif- 
 
INKLINGS 131 
 
 ferent positions, to choose in advance the best course 
 to pursue. 
 
 And shall we be told, that the beautiful, morally 
 sublime of poetry and romance, has nothing to do 
 with business transactions, unfits men for the sober 
 duties of life ? It may be replied, that flowers, the 
 poetry of nature, 
 
 c - the alphabet of angels. 
 
 "Wherewith they write on hill and field, 
 Mysterious truths," — 
 
 are not necessary ; that Ceres should wave her corn, 
 where the rose sheds its fragrance. Kind Nature is 
 not covetous in her bountiful provisions. She regales 
 us with the fragrance of flowers, and instead of ma- 
 king the world one great corn-field, we have that va- 
 riety of scenery which is the source of much more 
 pleasure. If it is true, that nothing which she be- 
 stows is useless, it follows, that the fancy should be 
 cultivated, chastened and refined ; not permitted to 
 grow up as some youth are, in the street, without pa- 
 rental advice and restraint, but with such guides as 
 Milton, Young, Pollok, and a host of others too nu- 
 merous to mention. 
 
132 INKLINGS. 
 
 THE BAR VERSUS THE PULPIT, AS A FIELD OF 
 ELOQUENCE. 
 
 It may be a matter of surprise, that youth who 
 have hardly entered the field of science, should pre- 
 sume to discuss before an enlightened assembly, the 
 comparative merits of the Pulpit and the Bar, us a 
 field for eloquence. It is a subject indeed, the inves- 
 tigation of which requires mature intellect, and some- 
 thing, at least, of that high quality of which it treats. 
 The former, it is well known, we do not possess, and 
 it would be the height of presumption for us to lay 
 claim to the latter. At some future period, after the 
 necessary, preparatory discipline, we may be permit- 
 ted to speak at the Bar of justice, or be called to min- 
 ister at the sacred Altar ; and although higher and 
 nobler motives will, Ave trust, influence our decision, 
 yet which of these presents a field the most favora- 
 ble for the display of Eloquence, is an inquiry not 
 without interest 
 
 It is the province and prerogative of Eloquence, 
 w r herever exhibited, to convince and to persuade. 
 This power of convincing, of persuading, of exciting 
 the interest, of rousing the passions, and of controll- 
 ing the will, may be found to some extent in every 
 department of public speaking, and is doubtless a 
 powerful engine, wherever it may be wielded ; but I 
 would maintain, that its peculiar province is pre-emi- 
 
INKLINGS. 135 
 
 nently at the Bar. The writings of .the master spir- 
 its with which the lawyer must be conversant, the 
 profound learning and unwavering integrity of those 
 before whom he is to speak, the watchful jealousy of 
 acute and selfish opposition, and the exciting topics 
 which he is called upon to discuss, are all calculated 
 to elicit the highest flights of genius, to call forth the 
 exertions of the most exalted, intellectual power. 
 What situation can be found, so moving, so exciting, 
 as that of the practitioner at the bar ? Standing as a 
 minister of justice, maintaining and protecting the 
 rights of his clients, defending the cause of helpless 
 innocence, rescuing the reputation which has been 
 tarnished by the breath of slander, palsying the arm 
 of oppression, and exciting the just indignation of the 
 good, against vice in all its deformity, and crime in 
 all its hideousness. Where in the range of intellect- 
 ual action can be found subjects equally calculated 
 to excite, and where fields so well fitted to display 
 vigorous thought, close reasoning, the exercise of 
 sound judgment, deep and pathetic feeling, the play 
 of fancy and the creating power of the imagination ? 
 Shall we be told, in the Pulpit? I will answer in the 
 words of another, who is acknowledged as a compe- 
 tent judge, and whose partialities, if he was in any 
 degree under their influence, were all in favor of that 
 sacred profession. 
 
 i: The pulpit orator is in too quiet possession of his 
 field. His subjects are worn out and long since ex- 
 hausted. They have for ages employed so many 
 7 
 
134 INKLINGS. 
 
 speakers, the public ear is so much accustomed to 
 taem, that it requires more than an ordinary power 
 of genius, to fix attention. Nothing within the reach 
 of art is more -difficult, than to bestow on what is 
 common, the grace of novelty. No sort of composi- 
 tion whatever, is -such a tiial of skill, as where the 
 merit of it lies wholly in the execution ; not in'giving 
 any information that is new, not in convincing men 
 of what they did not believe, but in dressing truths 
 which they knew and of which they were convinced, 
 in such colors as may most forcibly affect their heart. 
 It is to be considered too, that the subject of the 
 preacher confines him to abstract qualities, to virtues 
 and to vices, while that of the pleaders of the Bar 
 leads them to treat of persons, which is a subject that 
 interests the hearers more, and takes faster hold of 
 the imagination. They with more facility rouse your 
 indignation. It is from these causes, that we have 
 so great a number of moderately good preachers, 
 while we have, however, so few that are singularly 
 eminent. It may be considered, too, that preaching 
 is no proper subject of the art of eloquence. This . 
 belongs only to human studies and inventions, while 
 the truths of religion, with the greater simplicity and 
 the less mixture of art they are set forth, are likely 
 to prove the more successful." 
 
 The advantages of the Bar may be further illus- 
 trated from the orators which it has produced. The 
 matchless power which was wielded by the great 
 models of antiquity, Demosthenes and Cicero, is well 
 
INKLINGS. 135 
 
 known and universally acknowledged. At their de- 
 scription of sorrow, the tear of sympathy might be 
 seen on every cheek. At their picture of crime, eve- 
 ry bosom burned with indignation. At their com- 
 mand, the bosoms of thousands were calmed or agi- 
 tated ; by the force of their Eloquence, they could 
 break confederacies and control anarchy. To what 
 names shall we look in England for Eloquence like 
 that of Sheridan and Burke, of Pitt and Brougham, 
 of Curran and Phillips? And who in our land has 
 ministered at the holy Altar, that has, by his Elo- 
 quence, exerted such a sway over the minds of our 
 countrymen, as Otis and Adams, as Patrick Henry 
 and Lee, as Webster and Hayne, as Clay, and last, 
 not least, the favorite son of New- York, our own Van 
 Buren ? We believe the argument to be unanswer- 
 able, and that it leads to the conclusion, that the Bar 
 is the native soil of true Eloquence. 
 
 DO THE STGXS OF THE TIMES THREATEN THE PER- 
 MANENCY OF OUR FREE INSTITUTIONS ? 
 
 The meaning of this question appears to be, will 
 existing evils warrant us in coming to the conclusion, 
 that our free Institutions will soon be annihilated ; 
 that the great American fabric, which may be called 
 the wonder of the world and the cheering hope of 
 millions, is to be overthrown ; and that ignorance, 
 
136 INKLINGS. 
 
 superstition and barbarism, such as has been the 
 painful task of history to record, are again to rule 
 where the arts, and sciences, and free principles have 
 been ? This question is certainly one of peculiar 
 interest to us all, and if there be good reasons for in- 
 clining to the affirmative, they should be admitted 
 with frankness, and while they sadden the heart, they 
 should invigorate the efforts of the benevolent and 
 philanthropic. That evils have existed, and still ex- 
 ist in our Government, as well as in all others which 
 have ever flourished, we wish not to deny. That 
 there are evils too, which in the amount of happiness 
 they destroy, and in their pernicious influence, are of 
 a lamentable magnitude, we are willing to admit. 
 But that our free Institutions are to be shaken from 
 their firm foundation, that a people possessing a good 
 degree of intelligence and virtue, accustomed to self- 
 government and to watch with vigilance the interests 
 of the nation, are soon to bow the knee to kingly 
 power or to a despot with his iron scepter, is some- 
 thing which must have originated in the chimerical 
 brain of the false prophets of our land, who, possess- 
 ing the same spirit with some of old, have industri- 
 ously circulated their prophetic visions, hoping that 
 it would assist in their final accomplishment. That 
 we have nothing to fear from a direct usurpation of 
 power by those in official stations, will, we think, be 
 apparent to all who will give themselves a moment's 
 reflection. The people have ever been divided into 
 two great, political parties which watch each other's 
 
INKLINGS. 137 
 
 actions with Argus eyes, and the first step beyond 
 the limits of the Constitution, so far from passing 
 with impunity, will receive the severest censure, with 
 ail the aggravating circumstances which the jealous 
 fancy of opposing inclinations can suggest. And 
 until it can be shown, that the people will sacrifice 
 their Liberty upon the altar of party prejudice, we 
 have nothing to fear from political intrigue and cor- 
 ruption ; and I challenge the affirmative to find a 
 man whose influence might cause any apprehensions, 
 who would not declare that whenever he should be 
 convinced the measures of his favorite party would 
 have a dangerous tendency, he would immediately 
 abandon it. If, then, it be true, that our constitutions 
 and laws are firmly based in the unbiased attach- 
 ment of the great majority of the people, to support 
 the affirmative of this question, it must be shown that 
 some great evil now exists, or soon will, which, by 
 its increasing magnitude and vitiating tendency, will 
 spread a blighting influence over the minds of the 
 inhabitants, and paramount to that which peace, 
 prosperity and freedom can exert. And with all due 
 deference for the labored efforts of our opponents, we 
 ask, Sir, if such an evil has been shown us? Has 
 it been shown, that slavery, of the most fearful mag- 
 nitude of the black catalogue of modern evils, can 
 effect the whole length and breadth of this vast Re- 
 public, so as to endanger our great social fabric ? We 
 wish to treat this question with respect and candor, 
 and although we believe its importance has been ex- 
 
138 INKLINGS. 
 
 aggerated by some of its anti-friends, yet admitting 
 the worst construction which can be put upon it, we 
 think it but illy favors the affirmative of this ques- 
 tion. The most gloomy prognosticators only predict 
 a dismemberment of the Union, and two govern- 
 ments, viewing differently the institution of slavery. 
 And for a moment admitting even this, the sister re- 
 publics of ancient Greece could chant in unison the 
 praises of Liberty and their gods , and surely it would 
 be a blot upon the name of Christianity, if sister re- 
 publics of modern times, could not sing without dis- 
 cord, the praises of liberty and a common Saviour. 
 But this we have conceded only for the sake of argu- 
 ment, and we indulge the most sanguine hopes, that 
 efforts which are being made, will continue until this 
 evil shall be peacefully eradicated. I am aware that 
 you may be told by those who take more pleasure in 
 pulling down than in building up, that these efforts 
 will bring upon us greater evils than they will de- 
 stroy. This conclusion is derived from the fact, that 
 there are a few in this, as in all benevolent enterpri- 
 ses, whose zeal impels them beyond their knowledge, 
 and whose ill-timed warmth might, perhaps, with 
 some propriety, be branded with fanaticism. But 
 that it is unfair to judge a whole society from the 
 character of a few individuals, needs no argument. 
 The wisdom and piety of the great majority, would 
 not permit them to destroy what we all lament as a 
 disgrace, at the expense of a greater evil than slave- 
 ry itself. It seems to be a misfortune of our oppo- 
 
INKLINGS. 139 
 
 nents, to resort to arguments which have lost most 
 of their importance. The subject of duelling, which 
 appears to have no bearing upon this question, any 
 further than it proves a corrupt state of morals in this 
 particular, can, we think, with safety be numbered 
 with the evils which have been. Since the unfortu- 
 nate affair of Cilley, it has merited and received the 
 attention of Congress, and we may expect, that with 
 few exceptions, the laws of honor will hereafter yield 
 to the better ones of humanity. The subject of in- 
 temperance, which, a few years since, might have 
 furnished the affirmative with a good argument now 
 permits us to say, that the Signs of the Times indicate 
 a speedy reform from habits of an immoral tendency. 
 The subject of immigration, which formerly alarmed 
 the fears of some, has lost most of its importance in 
 the estimation of many. It is true, that many who 
 flock to our shores from Europe are ignorant and de- 
 graded, but they have experienced enough to make 
 them so ; they have been oppressed and trampled 
 upon, and the moment they land upon our shores, the 
 most alluring inducements invite them to industrious 
 efforts ; and observation informs us, that many of 
 them soon possess a smiling plenty, and that all, 
 with few exceptions, cherish the warmest attachment 
 for the institutions of their adopted country, 
 
 Bat there is one point, upon which, I am happy to 
 sav, we shall all agree. It requires no argument to 
 prove it, for it is admitted by all, however widely 
 they may differ in the minor points of politics or eth- 
 
140 INKLINGS, 
 
 ics. The only firm basis for free institutions, is the 
 intelligence and virtue of the great mass of the peo- 
 ple. And if experience proves, that they hitherto 
 have been sufficient for the purpose of self-govern- 
 ment, the inquiry remains, are we less intelligent and 
 less moral than our worthy ancestors ? And in an- 
 swer, let the academies which have arisen in almost 
 every village, let the improvements which are being 
 made in our common schools, and the interest felt by 
 legislators who execute the will of their constituents, 
 reply for the general diffusion of knowledge through 
 the community ; and let the good order, the morality, 
 the respect for religion, and the spires which glitter in 
 the rising and setting sun of every hamlet, reply to 
 the charge of degeneracy. 
 
 WERE THE ALLIED POWERS OF EUROPE JUSTIFIA- 
 BLE, IN BANISHING NAPOLEON ? 
 
 To be able to arrive at correct conclusions upon 
 any subject, a close attention to all the surrounding 
 and attending circumstances is always necessary; 
 and, perhaps, in no other case is it more indispensa- 
 bly so, than in the consideration of the question be- 
 fore us. But as neither time nor ability will admit 
 of giving you all the particulars, for it would be giv- 
 ing you the history of Europe, we will state a few of 
 the most important facts, influencing the close of the 
 
INKLING*. ] 41 
 
 eventful career of the Alexander of his age. And as 
 France was intimately connected with the history of 
 his life, it will be necessary to view its situation, a 
 moment previous to the commencement of the mete- 
 or-like course of the most ambitious and aspiring 
 man, to be found in the annals of the world. France, 
 previous to the revolution which placed her destiny 
 at the disposal of Napoleon, was, as the other king- 
 doms of Europe were, or had been, ruled by heredi- 
 tary sovereigns, with little or no restraint ; and of 
 course, her happiness depended much upon the char- 
 acter of her kings. But France was free, when com- 
 pared with the tyranny which followed the revolu- 
 tion. Louis twelfth, surnamed the Father of his peo- 
 ple, when informed that he was ridiculed by certain 
 comedians upon the stage, replied : "These men may 
 teach us some useful truths. Let them proceed in 
 their amusement so long as they respect female hon- 
 or. I shall not regret its being known that under my 
 reign they took this liberty with impunity." But the 
 autocrat who wore the imperial diadem, upon hear- 
 ing that he had been but distantly alluded to, gave 
 instant orders for the performers to be driven into exile. 
 But notwithstanding the government was generally 
 mild, it could not be expected, that France would long 
 remain an age behind her neighbors in political im- 
 provement. The grand axiom of her political creed — - 
 "As wills the king, so wills the law 7 ' — had yielded in 
 England, to the more genial doctrines of a limited mon- 
 archy, in which the power of the king was restrain- 
 
142 INKLINGS. 
 
 ed, and the rights of the people acknowledged. But 
 unfortunately for Frenchmen, in trying to regain their 
 rights they burst all the restraining barriers of the so- 
 cial compact; and persecution, imprisonment and 
 murder were the order of the day, till the time ar- 
 rived in which man appeared to be transformed into 
 a demon, and scenes ensued which gave it a name 
 but too expressive of the history of its events — a the 
 reign of terror." 
 
 After the fall of Robespierre, a tottering government 
 succeeded, which gave but feeble security for peace 
 and order. Yet by degrees, it acquired strength and 
 permanency, till many began to hope that the 
 object of the revolution would finally be accomplish- 
 ed. And now a new actor in the drama of the 
 French revolution appears, to change the whole cur- 
 rent of affairs, and dazzle by the splendor of his ex- 
 ploits, and bewilder by the daring of his designs. A 
 Corsican, remarkable in his youth for his love of 
 mathematics, military mimicry, and a proud, unyield- 
 ing, aspiring will, had received an education which 
 well prepared him to act his part, in the turbulent 
 times in which fortune had placed him. His talents 
 and bravery soon procured him a situation in the ar- 
 my of his adopted country, and from that day for, 
 ward, to his Russian campaign, his course was one 
 of almost uninterrupted success. The bridge of Lo- 
 di attested his courage in the field of battle ; the pas- 
 sage of the Alps, that nature presented to him no in- 
 surmountable obstacle. By his affability and victo- 
 
INKLINGS. 143 
 
 ries, he gained the hearts of the soldiery, and finally 
 succeeded in being proclaimed emperor of the Fren 
 but when the books were opened for the expression 
 of the people's will, we find only three or four millions 
 recording their names in the affirmative, in an em- 
 pire with a population of thirty millions. But admi- 
 ration of his talents, or dread of his power in the 
 army, and a recollection of the horrid scenes of the 
 past, silenced the murmurings of the people ; and all 
 who loved glory and conquest, more than liberty a 
 domestic happiness, (and they were not a few 7 .) wei 
 willing to assist their ambitious leader in disturbing 
 the repose of Europe. And the effects of the ruling 
 passion of Napoleon, were not to be confined to one 
 small quarter of the globe. The wave must be 
 tinged with the blood of the Gaul and Britain, in the 
 sanguine engagement of Trafalgar ; and the sandy 
 desert whitened with the bleaching bones of the fren- 
 zied followers of Mahomet and Bonaparte, who fell 
 in the .keen conflict of the Pyramids. He visited 
 Arabia and Syria with the sword, and would neither 
 have sheathed his bloody steel, nor paused upon the 
 banks of the Ganges to sigh, till as supreme arbiter 
 of the fate of the world, he had been seated upon a 
 throne whose base was the hemispheres. But happy 
 for man, there is One who can say, " thus far and no 
 further," and none can pass beyond it. 
 
 Should the friends of ambition, with a knowledge 
 of the facts before them, undertake the justification 
 of their fallen leader, they will pardon us for a single 
 
144 INKLINGS. 
 
 suggestion, which we think, can not have escaped 
 their own contemplations. With all the ' blazonry 
 which surrounds the name of Napoleon, history has 
 not yet recorded the deeds of benevolence, to com- 
 pensate for his wanton waste of treasure, happiness, 
 and life. And surely no one will say, he possessed 
 the right of disposing of the life of one individual, 
 even if empires were the purchase of his blood, to 
 gratify his ambition ; or that aught, but motives the 
 noblest which can sway the human bosom, can clear 
 his conscience from reproach, who has deprived a fel- 
 low-man of the inalienable right to live. 
 
 ON THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 
 
 The choice of a profession or occupation for life, 
 is an event of such frequent occurrence, that it can 
 not excite interest by its novelty, and yet the magni- 
 tude of the consequences which depend upon the 
 choice, is probably never fully appreciated. The 
 happiness of a man's whole life, often depends mate- 
 rially upon his wisdom in choosing an occupation, to 
 which his natural abilities, taste, habits and previous 
 acquirements, all unite in directing him, as the one 
 in which he may reasonably hope for success. And 
 if it be true, that there is a natural difference in tal- 
 ent, ability, or capacity to learn, this difference should 
 carefully be considered in the choice of a profession 
 
INKLINGS. 145 
 
 or occupation. The "natural traits of character" as 
 they are sometimes called, may eminently qualify an 
 individual for some particular occupation, and may 
 almost insure his success in that; and these very 
 " traits" may make eminence doubtful in any other 
 pursuit. An ardent lover of mathematics — one who 
 is delighted with the solution of a difficult problem, 
 or the demonstration of an intricate theorem, might 
 choose an occupation in which his powers of calcula- 
 tion would lie dormant, and an individual who could 
 not distinguish a triangle from a trapezoid, would 
 become his successful rival ; yet it is evident, if the 
 mathematician had chosen a pursuit in which the 
 reasoning powers would have been called into vigor- 
 ous exercise, in which he would have been required 
 to trace effect from cause and vice versa, and to de- 
 termine from circumstances and probable events, the 
 best course to pursue to escape the quicksands of ad- 
 verse contingencies, his competitor would have joined 
 in an unequal contest for the prize attending success. 
 This is but a single instance, for the purpose of illus- 
 tration. Many similar cases might not only be sup- 
 posed, but proved to exist, in which individuals, eith- 
 er misjudging themselves, or yielding to the wishes 
 of friends, or the counsel of those incompetent to ad- 
 vise, have struggled through life for a competence; 
 without ever becoming an ornament to the profession 
 which they have chosen. A father has designed his 
 eldest son for the ministry, who has entered the pro- 
 fession with limited prospects of success, The pro- 
 
146 INKLINGS. 
 
 fession of Law is selected for his second son, and the 
 remaining profession for his third, without assigning 
 any reason for his choice, except, that he selected the 
 Law for his second, because his eldest was in the 
 Ministry, and the profession of Physic for his third, 
 because he had a son in each of the other professions. 
 
 The feelings should be consulted in the choice of 
 an occupation, for the intellect will never grapple 
 with difficulties with so good a prospect of success, 
 as when the feelings are enlisted in favor of the ob- 
 ject which occupies the mind. They invigorate the 
 intellect, enliven the imagination, and harmonize all 
 the mental faculties ; giving the individual the power 
 of uniting and concentrating their whole force upon 
 any given point. They are to the mind, what the 
 sun is to the earth ; giving it light, life and produc- 
 tion. 
 
 But there are difficulties, besides those attending 
 the selection of a profession. The student has em- 
 ployed years in laboring to prepare himself for pro- 
 fessional business, and then, perhaps, finds that he 
 has only entered upon the threshold of difficulties. 
 He observes men in the profession which he has cho- 
 sen, who have enjoyed equal preparatory advantages, 
 and who can bring to their assistance years of pro- 
 fessional experience. And in addition to this positive 
 advantage which they possess, some of them, elated 
 with an occasional token of success, assume for them- 
 selves an eminence above their fellows ; and having 
 intrenched themselves behind the palisades of their 
 
INKLINGS. 147 
 
 profession, they retire to their "sanctum sanctorum/' 
 and to the first who may enter within their enclosure, 
 they exclaim with all the pious indignation of the 
 prophetess of Virgil — Procul, O procul este, profani ! 
 These difficulties should be carefully considered, 
 before a final decision upon so important a subject, 
 as the choice of a profession. But when that decis- 
 ion is made, it should be like the laws of the Medes 
 and Persians, which do not change. The motto 
 should not only be, " labor omnia vincit," but also, 
 "nil desperat^um;*' or in other words, unweary la- 
 bor should be united with a never-ceasing hope of fi- 
 nal success. And who can doubt, that such exer- 
 tions would be, sooner or later, crowned with suc- 
 cess ? 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The following Oration was delivered to a large 
 and respectable audience, in which were a few sur- 
 vivors of seventy-six. The date and other particu- 
 lars will be found as you proceed. 
 
 Fellow-Citizens : — 
 
 Another revolution of the earth with 
 its changing seasons, again reminds us of our Nation- 
 al Jubilee. Another blooming summer has flown, 
 another golden autumn ; winter with its domestic 
 peace and social bliss, has quickly glided, and spring 
 with its genial flowers, has given a brighter hue to 
 blooming expectations. And amid these peaceful 
 revolutions of nature, no revolution of armies has dis- 
 turbed the stillness of the scene, with the din of bat- 
 tle and the clash of arms. Our ears have not been 
 saluted with the clanking of a tyrant's chains, nor 
 our eyes, with a crimson tide flowing from patriot 
 hearts, struggling to burst the fetters of an unfeeling 
 
INKLINGS. 149 
 
 despot. Neither war, nor pestilence, nor famine^ 
 those withering scourges of the human race, has 
 wasted our country, depopulated its cities, or crippled 
 its resources. But in the enjoyment of peace aud 
 comparative prosperity, we are this day assembled to 
 pay our tribute of respect to departed heroes, who 
 wrote in the ensanguined field and sealed with blood, 
 the richest legacy which man ever bequeathed to his 
 fellow man— civil and religious Liberty. 
 
 The commemoration of great events in the history 
 of nations, is not of modern origin or artificial inven- 
 tion, but arises from one of the most ennobling char- 
 acteristics of the human race, gratitude to benefac- 
 tors. And if it be true, that deeds of benevolence 
 have sometimes been requited with evil, the truth of 
 the assertion is no less evident. If it be true, that the 
 frozen serpent, when warmed into life by the bosom 
 of the unwary traveler, repaid its benefactor with a 
 mortal wound from its envenomed fang, it is equally 
 true, that it was a serpent. We wish not to review 
 the lives of a few, w r ho have proved traitors to the 
 best principles of their nature, traitors to the dearest 
 rights of their race. Let their names perish in obliv- 
 ion ; for if they live, they will live upon the page of 
 infamy; if they survive the ruin of their nefarious 
 schemes, they must survive the blessings of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Yet, if our country has been the birth place of a 
 few, whose history will be beacons to warn us of the 
 rocks and quicksands which inevitably wreck the 
 
150 INKLINGS. 
 
 hopes of unbridled ambition, it has been the father 
 of a host, whose names will be associated with bra- 
 very and virtue, whose names will form a galaxy in 
 the history of Liberty. They need no sculptor's 
 hand to insure their immortality ; no monuments of 
 art to record their praise ; no trophies of the battle- 
 field to perpetuate their fame. Let the Granicus and 
 Arbela declare the invincible valor of Alexander, 
 while the hearts of millions of freemen, speak the un- 
 assuming worth of Washington. Washington yet 
 lives, and till benefactors are forgotten, his name will 
 live in the memory of freemen ; as long as the star- 
 spangled banner shall wave in triumph in the breeze, 
 his luster will be as imperishable as the glittering 
 hosts which deck the canopy of earth. 
 
 But not to Washington alone, belongs the glory of 
 achieving a nation's Independence. In that cata- 
 logue, upon which the Father of his country stands 
 pre-eminently conspicuous, are those whose talents 
 would have been an ornament to Rome, when con- 
 tending for the empire of the world ; and whose valor 
 may be compared with Spartan bravery, when Spar- 
 tan was but another name for heroism. The Patri- 
 ots of the American Revolution, in exalted sentiments 
 of man's inalienable rights, in decision, in action, cor- 
 responding with the firmness of their principles, are 
 perhaps without a parallel in the history of four thou- 
 sand years. 
 
 Greece, " the land of scholars and the nurse of 
 arms, 75 presents in classic style her deeds of noble 
 
INKLINGS. 151 
 
 daring, for the admiration of succeeding ages. The 
 achievements of her warriors and generals have been 
 a theme of eulogy, from the days of Roman grandeur, 
 to the present time. The struggles which encircled 
 her with a halo of glory, can never be obliterated 
 from the records of human events ; for when was the 
 bosom of the green earth pressed by an army of three 
 millions, except in the invasion of Greece by Xerxes 
 with his Persian legions? He was the most power- 
 ful of monarchs, in the extent of his dominions, and 
 in the unlimited power with which he ruled them. 
 His predecessors had conquered all the neighboring 
 provinces, and left for his inheritance, an empire em- 
 bracing every variety of climate and production. 
 Few would have been discontented with such an in- 
 heritance as this ; none, but those restless, turbulent 
 . spirits, whose ambition knows no bounds. He sum- 
 moned his com tiers and declared his intention of in- 
 vading Greece. His ancestors were renowned for 
 martial exploits ; he too, was more desirous of being 
 known as a conqueror, than a peaceful monarch. 
 The command was given for his forces to assemble 
 at the Hellespont, which separates Asia from Europe. 
 Every province furnished its supplies, and Xerxes, 
 from a throne erected upon an eminence, beheld the 
 plains around him, filled with the millions of his fol- 
 lowers. For a moment the kinder feelings of his na- 
 ture took possession of his heart. He paused, as did 
 Caesar upon the banks of the Rubicon, which separa- 
 ted his province from the Roman empire ; he paused. 
 
152 INKLINGS. 
 
 as does the assassin 3 to repress the involuntary shud- 
 der, which for a moment shakes the firmness of his 
 purpose. 
 
 But different were the feelings which fixed the 
 firm resolve, and nerved the sinewy arm of the sons 
 of Greece. Their country, their altars and their 
 homes, were worthy of a noble sacrifice ; and they 
 prepared to avert the destruction which threatened 
 them from a cruel invader. Leonidas, the Spartan 
 king marched to oppose the progress of the common 
 enemy. Advancing to Thermopylae, a narrow defile 
 between two mountains, and the entrance into Greece, 
 with three hundred of his countrymen he awaited the 
 approach of the Persian army. Xerxes advanced 
 and commanded him to surrender his arms. He re- 
 plied with laconic brevity, come and take them. He 
 resolved there to immolate himself and comrades to 
 the cause of Grecian liberty. There he and his brave 
 followers fell, contending against an army whose ar- 
 rows clouded the noon-day splendor of the sun. 
 
 We should admire the patriotism and bravery 
 which lead to the sacrifice of self upon the country's 
 altar. The philanthropy wiiich prompts it, demands 
 our esteem ; the deed we may revere or pity, accord- 
 ing to the wisdom or folly of its execution. And it 
 is as difficult to compare the actions of men, as the 
 different countries of the globe. The soil and sur- 
 face, the climate and productions, the manufactures 
 and commerce, should be considered. In these par- 
 ticulars they may widely differ, yet each may be es- 
 
INKLINGS. 153 
 
 teemed for its own peculiarities. And in examining 
 the claims to real greatness, the attending circum- 
 stances should not be forgotten ; the character and 
 motives of the men, the customs and condition of the 
 country, the object and power of the enemy. In the 
 history of our country, we find all these so happily 
 combined, as to extort even from opponents, an invol- 
 untary tribute of respect. The sufferings which 
 were endured in its first settlement, are such as ex- 
 cite our pity, while they elicit our admiration ; such 
 as are rarely found, in the history of ancient or mod- 
 ern times. And be it remembered, all these were 
 willingly endured for liberty of conscience. Our an- 
 cestors fled from European persecution, to seek in the 
 wild woods of America, a home for the oppressed, an 
 asylum for the exile ; where their orisons and an- 
 thems might ascend to their common Parent, untram- 
 meled by the laws of kings. The wide Atlantic rol- 
 led between them and the scenes of their childhood, 
 the homes of their youth, their kindred and their 
 country. Around them was one interminable wilder- 
 ness, in whose dark recesses were heard the prowling 
 of the panther, and the war-whoop of the savage. 
 Disease and famine were their visitants, and more to 
 be feared than these, were the merciless foes which 
 surrounded them. Time could not abate their mal- 
 ice, dangers never could deter them from the prose- 
 cution of revenge. Amid the peaceful labors of the 
 field, from the neighboring thicket was heard the re- 
 port of the Indian's unerring rifle ; the weary laborer 
 
154 INKLINGS. 
 
 was roused at midnight to witness the death of kin- 
 dred, or sink beneath the tomahawk ; even the sa- 
 credness of the sanctuary, was no barrier against sav- 
 age incursions. With such dangers to encounter, a 
 rapid increase of population could not be expected. 
 Yet they gradually increased in numbers and wealth. 
 Within a few years from the settlement of Jamestown 
 and the landing of the Pilgrims, numerous settle- 
 ments were made upon the shores of the Atlantic. In- 
 dustry soon furnished them all the comforts, and some 
 of the luxuries of life. Their savage neighbors be- 
 gan to respect the power which could destroy their 
 warriors, and lay waste their villages. Bright pros- 
 pects cheered the hearts of the colonists, like those 
 which animate the buoyant spirits of a youth, when 
 commencing upon the theater of life. 
 
 But one dark cloud floated in the sky, that por- 
 tended the gathering storm, which must burst upon 
 them with the lightning's glare and the thunder's 
 peal. England, proud and potent, assumed arbitrary 
 power over the colonies. In the earlier periods of 
 their history, they were too weak to dispute their 
 rights with the Mistress of the ocean, and her ear was 
 not always deaf to petition and remonstrance. In 
 1764, instead of weak and defenceless settlements, 
 they were a prosperous and happy part of the British 
 domain. Unfortunately for England, a course was 
 then commenced by the British parliament, which 
 ended in severing the ties which bound them to the 
 mother country. Unsatisfied with monopolizing the 
 
INKLINGS. 155 
 
 commerce of American products, a duty was imposed 
 upon articles imported from foreign countries. It was 
 asserted by those who opposed this measure, that 
 taxation and representation are inseparable ; a truth 
 which has since become an axiom in politics. But 
 power too often rules the voice of reason, and Eng- 
 land without changing her policy, passed the ensu- 
 ing year the famous Stamp Act. Following this, 
 was the duty upon tea ; and to check the spirit of 
 opposition, it was enacted, that those who might be 
 guilty of treason, should be transported to England 
 for trial. Other laws, equally unjust, hastened the 
 approaching crisis, It soon became evident, that 
 British aggression would be resisted by force of arms; 
 and preparations were made on both sides, to meet 
 the exigency. Lexington was the opening scene of 
 the great drama. * Eight hundred British grenadiers 
 were sent to Concord, to destroy the military stores 
 of the insurgents. Passing through Lexington, they 
 found seventy citizens peaceably assembled for mili- 
 tary exercise. They were commanded to lay down 
 their arms and disperse. Eight hundred, well armed, 
 well disciplined militia were before them to enforce 
 the command, and although their own number was 
 but seventy, without discipline and without leaders, 
 they defied the power of a veteran battalion. 
 
 It is natural to pause and inquire, if such daring 
 was the result of love of Liberty alone ; if it was not 
 the effect of long cherished hatred which sought re- 
 venge in the effusion of blood, or the consequence of 
 
156 INKLINGS. 
 
 an oppression, so severe, that resistance was prefera- 
 ble to submission. Nothing of this kind could have 
 sullied the purity of their motives. Notwithstanding 
 their grievances, they had viewed England with feel- 
 ings like those which children cherish for a mother's 
 fondness ; nor were they so oppressed, that resistance 
 had become an imperative necessity. They were 
 not unable to pay the trifling sum of three pence per 
 pound upon their beverage ; yet they would not do it, 
 so long as it involved the question of their Liberty. 
 They resolved to obtain their freedom, or perish in 
 the attempt. They met superior numbers and oppos- 
 ed them till forced to retreat, and then withdrew to 
 preserve their lives for the furtherance of a cause, 
 more dear to them than life itself. 
 
 Leonidas was brave and patriotic ; but there were 
 many considerations to stimulate his patriotism. He 
 contended against a nation with a different lan- 
 guage, and different customs. He fought for a 
 crown, and to escape the everlasting contempt of 
 his countrymen. He opposed an enemy, which, if 
 victorious, would have bound him like a slave to 
 the triumphal chariot of the Persian monarch. When 
 all the attending circumstances are considered, we 
 must admit, that the dazzling splendor of the achieve- 
 ment at Thermopylae, is eclipsed by the moral sub- 
 limity of the fray at Lexington. 
 
 A few yet remain, among us, to relate the labors 
 and dangers, the determined resistance and the 
 splendid victories of the revolutionary conflict. There 
 
INKLINGS. 157 
 
 are a few in this assembly, whose minds may con- 
 template, in the scenes of their youth, the achieve- 
 ments known by others from the pages of history. A 
 kind Providence has been your shield in the hour of 
 danger, and prolonged your existence to participate 
 in the sixty-fourth anniversary of ximerican Indepen- 
 dence. To greet you with a hearty welcome, in the 
 name of those here assembled, is a part of this day's 
 duties. And if the best wishes of others can soothe 
 the sorrows of declining years, be assured you have a 
 nation's gratitude, be assured you have our warmest 
 sympathies. And when the bugle's notes shall cease 
 to echo in your ears, when the scenes of other times 
 shall no longer flit in fancy, when the last revolution 
 of time shall be accomplished, may you be hailed 
 welcome on the shores of deliverance from toil and 
 .pain, and shout victory under the banners of the 
 Prince of Peace. 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 The general rules by which man's conduct is reg- 
 ulated, the effect of early impressions and circum- 
 stances upon his condition, and the influence of es- 
 tablished habits over his happiness, are taught by the 
 pages of the faithful historian. Here may be seen the 
 course which he pursues, in view of all the various 
 and conflicting circumstances, in which it is possible 
 8 
 
158 INKLINGS. 
 
 to place him. Here may be seen the sad consequen- 
 ces of unrestrained passions, and the despotic tyran- 
 ny of ungovernable appetites. And here too, maybe 
 seen the same causes which operate upon individual 
 enterprise and prosperity, upon a more extended 
 scale, overthrowing the fabrics and demolishing the 
 very foundations of ancient grandeur and glory. If 
 history be not so agreeable as fancy sketches, it is 
 profitable frequently to review its lessons ; and it 
 would be well for us, and well for our country, to 
 profit by the experience of former times. 
 
 In tracing the causes which have been most active 
 in the destruction of individual enterprise, and in the 
 decline and fall of nations and empires, three have 
 united to overthrow man's prosperity and happiness. 
 The triple-edged sword, which has done more per- 
 haps, than all other causes combined, to make the 
 world emphatically " a Tale of tears," is a bloody 
 weapon which has been wielded by the foe of man, 
 for more than four thousand years. It has been en- 
 gaged in all the wars which have agitated the world, 
 and in every strife which has disturbed the peace of 
 communities and neighborhoods. It is at this mo- 
 ment active as ever, in drinking the life-blood of its 
 victims, and wounding beyond hope of recovery, 
 those who are not provided with a new-invented 
 shield, the only cuirass which can safely guard the 
 bosom from its dangerous assaults. It may be com- 
 pared to the images of the gods, having three faces 
 and one body. The heads may be named avarice, 
 
ITSKLINGS. 159 
 
 ambition, and intemperance ; but the body belongs 
 exclusively to the latter. It would not be difficult to 
 show, that the three are different modifications of 
 one and the same thing ; that avarice is an intem- 
 perate love of gold, and ambition an intemperate 
 thirst for power ; but the sensual appetites alone, 
 have done more than the power of man can compute, 
 in the destruction of property, character and intellect, 
 and in blighting the fairest hopes which the imagi- 
 nation can portray. 
 
 What made Alexander the great, so famous for his 
 military achievements, the disgrace of the age in 
 which he lived? He was a valiant and ambitious 
 youth, and placed in circumstances to follow his in- 
 clinations, he subdued the Persian empire, and 
 marched his victorious armies against nations and re- 
 gions hitherto unknown ; but he who had shielded 
 himself from the arrows of the barbarians, found in 
 his own ungovernable appetites, a foe more subtle 
 than the Persian or Hindoo, and fell a sacrifice to his 
 own unrestrained licentiousness, while in the ardor 
 of youth, and fondly dreaming of future accessions to 
 his renown. 
 
 What made the name of Pericles an epoch in the 
 history of Athens ? He left the Athenians in the 
 midst of wealth and splendor, and yet from Pericles 
 is dated the commencement of a decline, which end- 
 ed in the destruction of her national existence. Read 
 the history of his sumptuous entertainments, his 
 splendid feasts with sideboards sparkling with costly 
 
160 INKLINGS. 
 
 wine, and there you may learn the commencement 
 of her decline, while her public monuments present- 
 ed an external appearance of prosperity. 
 
 Rome, once the proud mistress of the civilized 
 world, whose eagle waved in triumph over the most 
 fertile plains of Europe, Asia and Africa, now stands 
 like a beacon light, to warn modem nations of the 
 rock and whirlpool of her own destruction. When 
 indolence and luxury were her leading characteris- 
 tics, she became an easy prey to the ruthless inva- 
 der. When mercenaries performed the duties of the 
 Roman soldier, and the citizens yielded their time to 
 the pleasures of the theater and the sensualities of 
 midnight revels, her patriotism departed ; and civil 
 dissensions paved the way for an easy conquest. 
 The vines which grew upon the sunny plains of Ita- 
 ly, supplied cheer for the banquets which unnerved 
 the arm of the Roman soldier ; and at the same time 
 furnished a beverage for the Goth and Vandal, which 
 excited them on to plunder and conquest. 
 
 ENVY. 
 
 We admire the nobler characteristics of our nature. 
 They are something upon which the poet and philos- 
 opher have ever dwelt with peculiar pleasure. They 
 have always been the favorite theme of song and dec- 
 
INKLINGS, 161 
 
 lamation. And surely benevolence, beneficence and 
 charity can never be extolled beyond their worth, for 
 they are the chain which binds society together, the 
 luminaries which cast a ray of sunshine over scenes 
 darkened by the prevalence of baser passions. Yet, 
 as much as we admire them, and gladly as we would 
 linger upon their loveliness, the compound mixture of 
 human nature makes it painfully necessary to attend 
 to those viler propensities, which sow the seed of dis- 
 cord and contention. And we would do it without 
 exaggeration, and with all becoming charity ; for 
 without charity, while man is imperfect, harmony 
 can never long exist. 
 
 The list of those propensities which have been the 
 bane of earthly bliss, is long and dark ; and the num- 
 ber of crimes and villainies which it has prompted, is 
 without computation. But upon this black catalogue, 
 as its great progenitor, one stands conspicuously pre- 
 eminent. Its history is much of the history of the 
 world, for its office is to wither and destroy, and the 
 blighting of its breath is like the scourging pestilence. 
 Were its work confined to the aspiring and adventu- 
 rous alone, we should little regret its ruthless havoc ; 
 but if man have compassion, he will feel it when En- 
 vy triumphs over innocence. It commenced its un- 
 envied task at creation's dawn, and thence through 
 the winding course of time down to the present, its 
 victims are innumerable. Abel was the first who fell 
 its sacrifice. His unnatural brother must rise and 
 slay, because his purer heart deserved superior favor ; 
 
162 INKLINGS. 
 
 and slavery and exile were the best requitals which 
 Joseph found for his tender solicitude for his breth- 
 ren. It may not be necessary to enumerate past oc- 
 currences familiar to us all. The present state of 
 society presents enough for us to ponder, for. in the 
 long lapse of ages, if knowledge has been progressive, 
 it has been in vice, as well as virtue ; and when we 
 compare man now, with man in his primeval inno- 
 cence, the greatness of the contrast almost bewilders 
 us. Time was when he was innocent, and then pro- 
 pitious Heaven smiled on all around him. He in- 
 haled delight from the very air he breathed, laden 
 with the richest odors. He quenched his thirst at 
 perennial fountains whose enlivening draughts were 
 grateful to his taste. He walked through "alleys 
 green and flowery arbors," by streams whose gentle 
 murmurs were music to his ear. He plucked the 
 fruit which his kind Author had profusely lavished in 
 his way, and with his fair consort meekly bowed, as 
 he beheld the lovely impress of Divinity stamped on 
 all around him. But now, how changed ! What 
 pains and sorrows has a single sin brought upon our 
 fallen race ! Instead of love, gratitude and adora- 
 tion, and their offspring, peace and harmony, we now 
 see Envy and strife, and the long list of evils in their 
 train. Instead of seeking happiness in those pure 
 sources from which alone it flows, "our being's end 
 and aim/' is sought in wealth, in honor and renown, 
 in courting danger and despising toil, to gain some 
 
INKLINGS. 163 
 
 lofty eminence, where to repose beyond the reach of 
 equals. 
 
 The present state of society, so widely different 
 from primeval innocence, can not be attributed to any 
 single, predominating vice. It is deeply rooted in the 
 natural selfishness of the human heart. But if there 
 be any one, to which a principal share may be as- 
 cribed, that one is Envy. We see its influence in 
 every grade of society, and in every situation of life. 
 It often mingles with feelings and inclinations which 
 assume another name. The desire of gain is stimu- 
 lated by envying the possessions of others, and fame 
 is coveted lor the dazzling splendor which it bestows 
 upon others who possess it. Nor is it confined to 
 great pursuits in the higher walks of life. It mingles 
 with feelings of a kindred character in every employ- 
 ment. The farmer observes the superiority of his 
 rival farmer, in their honorable occupation. He sees 
 his fields yield a more plenteous harvest than his own, 
 and resolves another year to be more vigilant, al- 
 though this has produced a competence. This emu- 
 lation, so common among all classes, may be a great 
 benefit to society ; yet that it partakes largely of En- 
 vy, is too obvious to need a demonstration. 
 
 But its effects elsewhere must be seen as a ruling 
 principle, for then it shuns all honorable rivalry, and 
 looking with a troubled eye upon worth, is only con- 
 tent with tarnishing all that is bright, and clouding 
 all that is fair. It veils its nefarious designs under 
 
164 INKLINGS. 
 
 pretence of charity and good-will, and while the com- 
 munity at large give credence to the dissembler, mi- 
 nute observers may discover the baseness which lies 
 concealed within the honest pretensions of a polished 
 exterior. It speaks of the purity of its own motives 
 and intentions, and declares in borrowed phrase its 
 philanthropy and patriotism. It seeks to depress oth- 
 ers, as the surest way to elevate itself, and grieves 
 that any are free from its own contaminating pollu- 
 tions. 
 
 COME TO MY BOWER ! 
 
 Come to my bower ! 
 Curtained with azure skies, 
 And graced with tints of rainbow hues, 
 It is perfumed with sweet wild-flowery 
 Refreshed with heaven's own dews. 
 The moss-clad hillock seems to say, 
 Recline upon my bosom \ 
 The warbling birds invite to stay. 
 And breath of fragrant blossoms. 
 
INKLINGS. 165 
 
 Give care away to the sighing breeze, 
 Which moves the leaves of shadowing trees, 
 And fans the fevered brow of care ; 
 And whispers of a world that's fair, 
 Where clouds never lower, 
 Above my wild- wood bower ; 
 Come to my bower ! 
 8* 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 OBLIGATIONS OF AMERICAN YOUTH. 
 
 When we look around us and behold the happy 
 condition of our country, the success which has at- 
 tended its enterprises, and. the general prosperity 
 which prevails through its extensive dominions, there 
 is a charm which mingles with the feelings of every 
 American ; and the bosom is agitated with emotion, 
 when we cantrast the present with the past, and hear 
 recounted from the lips of the veteran, the tragic 
 scenes which obtained our freedom. Every class of 
 citizens rejoices in reviewing the past and anticipating 
 the future ; but none with more enthusiasm, than the 
 youth of this republic. The past presents them 
 scenes which they are proud to contemplate — scenes 
 of toil and danger, I had almost said, without a par- 
 allel. A few years since, and what may now be call- 
 
INKLINGS, 167 
 
 ed a powerful republic, was an infant colony, driven 
 by the persecutions of the old world from the land of 
 its nativity and the comforts of civilized life, to the 
 gloomy shores west of the Atlantic, whose only inl 
 itant was the merciless savage. Few we denominate 
 men, would purchase even liberty and all its ble 
 ings, with so much expense. But they were inured 
 to hardship, and no danger or privation could appall 
 them, when an unfettered conscience was the recom- 
 pense. They prized liberty as the greatest boon 
 which heaven could bestow ; and while they were 
 securing for themselves its blessings, they were con- 
 scious of laying the foundation for the prosperity and 
 happiness of future generations, which would yet 
 arise and call them blessed. These were the princi- 
 ples of our ancestors ; and the zeal which they in- 
 spired, prepared them to meet every danger, and kept 
 * their hopes from sinking amid their sufferings and 
 distresses, when famine and misery were their com- 
 panions, when the aborigines of the country were 
 manifesting their malice by marking their way with 
 conflagration and slaughter, and when the mother 
 country waged a cruel and unjust war against their 
 feeble numbers. 
 
 Such was the character of the venerable ancestors 
 of American youth. They were hardy, intelligent, 
 and enterprising, jealous of their rights, and ever ea- 
 ger to protect them from the incursions of despotism. 
 After a long and bloody conflict, they succeeded in 
 establishing a government upon the principle of equal 
 
168 INKLINGS. 
 
 rights, in which the people are their own rulers. 
 More than half a century has proved its wisdom and 
 firmness, and the youth of the present day are enjoy- 
 ing the benefits of a well regulated republic. It has 
 encouraged and supported schools, where all may ac- 
 quire sufficient knowledge to prepare them for the 
 busy scenes of life, and Academies and Colleges, 
 where few are necessarily deprived of a classical 
 education. It has done much for the general diffu- 
 sion of knowledge, and for making all classes intelli- 
 gent, enterprising and happy. The young, surround- 
 ed with every inducement to call forth their energies, 
 and a certain prospect of success, as the reward of 
 perseverance, have brighter visions of the future, than 
 the youth of any other country. They can be, with 
 few exceptions, whatever they resolve to be. If their 
 aim be elevated and noble, their zeal untiring in the 
 pursuit of knowledge, and their determination un- 
 wavering to merit the laurels which encircle the 
 brow of worth and virtue, it is an axiom in this coun- 
 try, that they will be successful. Too many have 
 succeeded before them, to leave a doubt to damp their 
 lor. Professions of every character have been fill- 
 by those, who, in other countries, could never think 
 aspiring so high ; and our halls of legislation have 
 echoed with the eloquence of the self-created, who 
 have arisen from obscurity, to assist in guiding our 
 nation's destiny. 
 
 There is nothing in the way of the youth of this 
 country, but a few impediments that nature has 
 
INKLINGS 169 
 
 placed there, which needlessly blight the fair prospects 
 of too many, who otherwise might have enrolled their 
 names highest upon, the list of fame. Too many 
 have sacrificed upon the altar of appetite and pas- 
 sion, their character and virtue, and have fallen vic- 
 tims to intemperance and debauchery. Fair hopes 
 of future greatness have often been wrecked, and dis- 
 appointment and despair have administered bitter 
 draughts of consolation, to those who so far lost self- 
 control, as to be unable to reform. The season of 
 youth is truly called the most perilous of a man's 
 whole existence. It is then the character is formed, 
 and that impress stamped upon it, which usually de- 
 cides its possessor's career through subsequent life* 
 If the vices and follies which surround the young 
 and continually solicit an adoption, be not checked 
 while in embryo, the happiness of the future will be 
 clouded by ungovernable appetites and malignant 
 passions. Habits are established which in after life 
 are a source of pleasure or pain, according to the 
 wisdom or folly ot the choice. But the importance 
 of this period, its influence upon the future station in 
 society, and the obligations it imposes upon the 
 young, can not be shown more clearly, than by view- 
 ing it as the time when the occupation for life is cho- 
 sen. This consideration alone, would make this pe- 
 riod an important one in the history of many men, 
 for their character in future depends principally upon 
 the decision. The choice of associates is closely con- 
 nected by its influence and Importance, with that of 
 
170 INKLINGS. 
 
 an occupation. There have been many wise sayings 
 written for the instruction of the young upon this 
 point, and one which should never be forgotten, re- 
 minds them that their character is known by their 
 company. If they prefer the vile and vicious, their 
 character will be judged as such, and their standing 
 in society will rank with that of their companions; 
 but if they seek the wise and virtuous, experience 
 will prove to them, that genuine merit can be appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 The barriers which oppose the progress of the 
 young, when met with firmness, are far from being 
 impassable ; when not opposed with resolution, with- 
 er the brightest hopes which animate the bosom. 
 The wreck of geriius and talent should warn and 
 prepare them for the hour of temptation, and the nu- 
 merous examples of success and triumph by which 
 they are surrounded, should urge them onward. 
 They will soon step forth upon the theater of action, 
 to fill the places which will then be vacant. They 
 will soon possess the wealth and influence, and con- 
 trol the scenes which are now in other hands. Those 
 who now fill the most important stations and direct 
 our national affairs, have reached their zenith, and 
 are declining, to give place to another generation. 
 They will soon retire from the scenes in which they 
 now participate, and their country's interests which 
 they have guarded, and the offices which they have 
 discharged, from the lowest to the highest, will be 
 committed to those who are now in the morning of 
 
INKLINGS. 171 
 
 life. It requires but little reflection to prove, that 
 most weighty obligations rest upon the young, and 
 demand of them suitable qualifications to fill with 
 honor the stations they are destined to occupy. Who 
 can tell the wisdom and integrity which may be re- 
 quired to guard our institutions? Enough has al- 
 ready been seen, to moderate the confidence of the 
 prudent, in our perfect security. Unbounded ambi- 
 tion may yet find its way to the helm of government, 
 may seek to overthrow our liberty and veil our fair 
 prospects in midnight gloom. But our freedom will 
 remain as unshaken as the glory of its founders has 
 untarnished, if the young improve their unparalleled 
 advantages for acquiring knowledge, and imitate the 
 virtue, patriotism, and heroic fortitude of their ances- 
 tors, who, by their deeds of noble greatness, have 
 made their names a legacy to future generations. 
 ' And if our country now stands high in the estimation 
 of surrounding nations, before those who will soon 
 be actors in life's drama shall have left the stage for 
 their successors, it may surpass the loftiest conception 
 of the statesmen who placed a firm foundation for the 
 glorious superstructure. 
 
 ECONOMY. 
 
 The careful observer of men, with their manners 
 and customs, will find much to amuse and instruct 
 
172 INKLINGS. 
 
 him in human nature. So great a variety is present- 
 ed to his view, that it requires in no small degree, 
 acuteness of perception, to discern the incentives or 
 motives which are the propelling powers of action. 
 There is an apparent contradiction in many actions, 
 if we ascribe to them a particular cause. But there 
 are many, who, in one respect, perhaps, more than in 
 any other, appear to have laid aside reason and judg- 
 ment, and the nobler faculties with which they are 
 endowed. The most careless observer might pro- 
 nounce with certainty the passions which they cher- 
 ish, the feelings they seek to gratify. They wrongly 
 estimate the glittering thousands they possess, and 
 manifest as much pleasure in squandering them, as 
 misers do, in gathering a shining heap for others to 
 enjoy. This world's goods were given to be used as 
 reason dictates, not to gratify the base passion ava- 
 rice, nor to be squandered in a prodigality which can 
 not add to our happiness : they were given to us for 
 nobler purposes, and would be much better employed 
 in bestowing charity upon the destitute. Few under- 
 stand the right purposes to which money should be 
 applied, and those few may with propriety be termed 
 economists. The extremes which injure or destroy 
 the happiness of the miser and spendthrift, are way- 
 marks which guide them in the right direction. They 
 prize what they possess sufficiently to be frugal and 
 industrious, without making it the sole object of their 
 care, or esteeming it worthy of adoration. Happy is 
 the man whose passions are restrained by deliberate 
 
INKLINGS. 173 
 
 reason, in disposing of the goods which fortune has 
 placed in his hands. 
 
 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 
 
 The present is an age remarkable for discoveries 
 and improvements, not in any one department of hu- 
 man enterprise, but in all the various callings which 
 men pursue. The patents and labor-saving ma- 
 chines which have been invented within a quarter of 
 a century, are almost numberless. Various depart- 
 ments of science have, through the penetrating in- 
 vestigation of the present age, been brought to a much 
 greater state of perfection, than formerly was known, 
 Subjects intricate and abstruse, have been found to be 
 based upon a few, simple, elementary principles, and 
 hence their investigation requires less time and pro- 
 duces more pleasure. But there are fields which the 
 most sagacious have endeavored to explore, without 
 success. Some, indeed, profess to have made impor- 
 tant discoveries in them, but their plans being imprac- 
 ticable, are viewed as chimerical schemes. Yet, not- 
 withstanding former failures, who can doubt that this 
 age, in which blind prejudice and superstition, are to 
 bid the world an everlasting farewell, in which men 
 are not influenced in their belief upon a subject by 
 their more illiterate ancestors, but by the results of 
 deep-searching investigation ; who can doubt, that 
 
1 74 INKLINGS. 
 
 such an age will produce geniuses who will be able 
 to overcome every obstacle in exploring these untried 
 paths. 
 
 We may look forward with sanguine hope to the 
 time as not far distant, when some modern genius, 
 whose ilame will be transmitted to posterity with un- 
 tarnished fame, may discover a motion which can be 
 made perpetual with less expense than the celebrated 
 invention which was made to move with a crank in 
 the cellar, secret wires communicating the motion to 
 machinery above. And in the onward march of 
 chemical knowledge, some prodigy may arise with 
 investigation wonderfully developed upon his crani- 
 um, who will enrich the whole world by discovering 
 a simple process for changing unsightly charcoal to 
 glittering diamonds. Those who are so happy as to 
 live in the present age of light and knowledge, may 
 see steam disused, as applied to mechanical purposes 
 and navigation, and the stately ship, propelled by the 
 superior power of electricity or attraction, without 
 suffering the danger of bursting boilers, or the incon- 
 venience of loading with fuel at every port. Then 
 will the name of Fulton be forgotten, and there will 
 
 be recorded in flaming characters, the Hon. . 
 
 I leave a blank to be filled out after the discoverv. 
 
INKLINGS. 175 
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Among the many rules which have been given by 
 the wise in different ages, for advancing the happi- 
 ness of man, there is one, which has been universal- 
 ly adopted in theory, but almost wholly disregarded 
 in practice. The sentiment it contains has been so 
 long and so generally admitted as true, that it might 
 perhaps with some propriety be called a proverb, if 
 there be any particular distinction in the terms ; but 
 be that as it may, its well known name is content- 
 ment. This rule maintains that contentment is feli- 
 city, and that all who wish to be happy, have only to 
 1 bound their wishes by their power to gratify them. 
 If this be true, it is a much better wav for men to ob- 
 tain their object, for the grand object of all is happi- 
 ness, than the various methods so eagerly pursued, 
 by most men. It is not the lot of all who seek 
 wealth, to obtain it ; and the few who accomplish 
 their purpose, prove by experience the unsatisfying 
 nature of the reality, which disappoints their expect- 
 ations. The same may be said of honor, and the 
 long train of pursuits which occupies the attention 
 of a large majority of men. If then, it be true, that 
 men who seek enjoyment in pomp and glitter, and an 
 undue attention to trifles which furnish employment 
 for many, may not only be baffled in pursuit, but will 
 
176 INKLINGS. 
 
 surely be disappointed in their pleasures, even when 
 successful ; it will follow, that every one should seek 
 contentment, because it may be obtained, and will 
 satisfy an innate thirst for rational enjoyment, 
 
 DEPENDENCE. 
 
 Although man's happiness may be said to depend 
 principally upon himself, yet in his intercourse with 
 others, it will depend very much upon the character 
 of his associates. We are mutually dependent upon 
 each other for a thousand comforts and convenien- 
 ces. The inhabitants of the temperate zone are de- 
 pendent upon the torrid, for their spices, and many 
 articles of luxury ; and those of the latter are de- 
 pendent upon the former. If the people of one zone 
 should say, they would have no intercourse with 
 those of another, they might deprive them of coffee 
 and other luxuries, but at the same time would de- 
 prive themselves of ice to cool their own beverage, 
 as great a luxury to them, as coffee to the others. 
 
 We are not only dependent as inhabitants of a par- 
 ticular climate, but we are also dependent as mem- 
 bers of the same civil compact. Our dependence 
 here is very great, and the only lawful source of gov- 
 ernment. Without government, a man's life may 
 depend upon the will of his neighbor, for the strong 
 
INKLINGS. 177 
 
 may destroy the weak, and escape the punishment 
 inflicted by law. Hence the original object of gov- 
 ernment, is to protect the weak against the encroach- 
 ments of the strong. By. the strong arm of the law 
 we are made secure in our persons and property, and 
 this strong arm derives its strength from our mutual 
 consent to be guided by the same rule of conduct. 
 
 But there is another kind of dependence which we 
 feel perhaps more sensibly than any other, because it 
 is more intimate and obvious. It is the dependence 
 upon those with whom we associate. This is not a 
 dependence which affects one's life or property, but 
 may be as intimately connected with his happiness. 
 To illustrate this idea, it will be necessary to take ex- 
 amples from the common condition of members of 
 society ; for it is difficult to contemplate man without 
 life or property, and almost impossible to conceive his 
 condition without associates. It will be necessary to 
 remember likewise, that his happiness in this life only 
 is considered, and is considered upon the principle 
 that life is not a blessing, if the amount of happiness 
 is overbalanced by the amount of misery. Upon 
 these premises, I think it may be proved, that man's 
 happiness depends more upon friends and associates, 
 than upon life and property; for the simple posses- 
 sion of life and property, has no more connection 
 with happiness, as I conceive, than a piece of blank 
 paper with a composition. A composition may be 
 written upon the one, with a hand to write and a 
 head to conceive ; and happiness may be made to 
 
178 INKLINGS. 
 
 proceed from the others, by intellectual culture arid 
 friendly intercouse with associates. "Whether this 
 point has been established or not, one thing, at least, 
 is obvious ; that our happiness depends very much 
 upon the acquirements and goodness of those with 
 whom we associate. 
 
 THE CLASSICS. 
 
 In proceeding to the investigation of this subject, it 
 may be necessary to notice what the objects of edu- 
 cation are, or what they should be, for they may vary 
 widely with different individuals. It is generally 
 conceded, that they should be, a cultivation of the 
 morals, an expansion of the intellect, and an ac- 
 quaintance with human nature. These three partic- 
 lars should be remembered in the discussion of this 
 question, and remembered as directly connected with 
 the study of the classics. Their influence upon the 
 morals may vary with individuals, but could not be 
 recommended, as a code of morals. Their fabled 
 gods, goddesses, heroes and nymphs, are possessed of 
 the greatest virtues, which are spontaneous produc- 
 tions of the heart, guided by human precepts ; but 
 they often border upon the neighboring vices, and 
 their manly virtues are tarnished by the greatest im- 
 proprieties, with no other excuse than the gratifica- 
 tion of some favorite passion. 
 
INKLINGS 179 
 
 Man is greatly influenced "by what ho sees and 
 
 hears. He reads a touching description of misfor- 
 tune and distress; and his heart softens with sympa- 
 thy. He reads a graphic delineation of shipwreck 
 and disaster, of a hero's undaunted courage, and his 
 fearless grappling with contending difficulties, and 
 feels that he has the muscles of a hero. He hears 
 described in soothing numbers. Dido's unconquerable 
 passion, and may wish the kingly grace to captivate. 
 He sees champions go forth to glorious combat, the 
 strong and brave fall beneath their sturdy strokes. 
 and although he would not slay a fellow, yet for a 
 moment he may wish to be a victor. The reader, if 
 he reads understandingly and with interest, is in some 
 danger of imbibing too much the spirit of the text. 
 His scenery is gilded chariots and splendid palaces. 
 his companions are heroes superior to their trappings : 
 and it may require an eriort of his judgment to break 
 the spell of his fancy and convince him. that he lives 
 in a world, the dim reflection of his ideal one. But 
 he may admire the admirable, forget the weakness, 
 reject the fiction, and be thankful that his belief is 
 not founded upon the speculations of the imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 The cultivation of the mind is of no small impor- 
 tance in the investigation of this subject, and in this 
 particular, the classics possess decidedly superior ad- 
 vantages. The quickness of perception and acute 
 discrimination which they require, are admirably cal- 
 culated to strengthen the judgment. The correct trans- 
 
180 INKLINGS. 
 
 • 
 
 lation of a single passage, requires the recollection of 
 many principles which must be applied, each in its 
 proper place. They teach the scholar not to decide 
 until he has attended to all the minute circumstances 
 which have a bearing upon the subject, for often the 
 least negligence will change the meaning of a whole 
 passage ; and the habits which he thus forms will 
 enable him to judge of men and actions, with a de- 
 gree of accuracy approaching to infallibility. 
 
 The study of the classics also prepares him to un- 
 derstand the passions, the inclinations and the weak- 
 nesses of men. Their authors were men acquainted 
 with human nature, and the causes which prompt the 
 actions of most men. Their peculiar situation made 
 them observe the ingredients of the most curious com- 
 pound in nature, their own incomprehensible selves ; 
 for they were so situated, that with sufficient skill, 
 they could move a nation by their oratory ; and the 
 knowledge and ingenuity displayed in their produc- 
 tions, are indubitable evidence of the master spirits 
 which produced them. 
 
INKLINGS. 181 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 I had a dream, be not surprised, 
 
 For all do have their dreams ; 
 I dreamed that I was floating down 
 
 The pleasant, quiet streams 
 Of land where florets drooping round, 
 
 Their sweetest fragrance breathe, 
 And on each little, green hill-side, 
 
 Their honored chaplets wreathe. 
 
 From brake to bush, from shrub to flower. 
 
 The insects of the land 
 Had woven veils of gossamer, 
 
 Around on every hand. 
 The gentle breeze betrayed its source 
 
 And dalliance with the rose, 
 And whispered notes of music forth, 
 
 Which mortal never knows. 
 
 No noontide glare of light was there, 
 
 Shade softening into shade, 
 Seemed part of objects which it formed, 
 
 And doubled as it made. 
 All bright and fair, that land was there, 
 
 Bird answered bird in song. 
 
182 INKLINGS. 
 
 And cliff and dell with mimic tongue, 
 The cadence sweet, prolong. 
 
 That land was all a fairy land. 
 
 No pain, no sorrow there } 
 No laughter grating on the ear. 
 
 So kindred near to care. 
 The swift-winged spirits went and came, 
 
 High through the upper air ; 
 They passed, and they were seen no more, 
 
 But left their radiance there, 
 
 In harmony with all this land, 
 
 A maiden too was there ; 
 No flaming seraph of the skies, 
 
 She was surpassing fair. 
 Her form and air, her motion free, 
 
 In unity combined 
 To make this maiden something more 
 
 Than can be well defined. 
 
 She looked on others with a lore 
 
 Transparent^ free and kind, 
 And seemed to think herself a part 
 
 Of the eternal Mind. 
 Supernal power to her was given, 
 
 All passions to confine \ 
 Love's rosy wreath around the heart, 
 
 At pleasure to entwine. 
 
INKLINGS. 183 
 
 I gazed in wonder, mute and long. 
 
 Upon this mortal form ; 
 And thought of her when tempests lower. 
 
 And fierce the wintry storm. 
 No answering glance to me was given, 
 
 The scene around was all 
 "Within her view, more grand to see 
 
 Than dome or lordly hall. 
 
 Next, I approached in suppliant mood, 
 
 With lowly bended knee ; 
 Informed her of love deep within, 
 
 She had inspired in me. 
 She heard me, but she heeded not, 
 
 The scene was in her eye ; 
 No crimson blush, no kindling glance, 
 
 No bosom for a sigh. 
 
 The vision faded from my sight ; 
 
 Its memory remains, 
 To cheer, to bless, and to oppress, 
 
 In pleasures and in pains. 
 And deep this truth upon my mind, 
 
 "Was graven and impressed 5 
 Who seeks in others, bliss supreme, 
 
 May seek and not be blest. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A EAINY DAY. 
 
 Who has never seen a rainy day ? This question 
 requires no direct answer, for the answer is implied 
 in the question itself. Rainy days may be divided 
 into two great classes, literal and figurative. The 
 literal may be subdivided into a variety, almost equal 
 to the number of flowers which some botanist has 
 given, forty thousand ; leaving a great variety to 
 blush unseen, and wither without even a name. But 
 what is a rainy day ? Day, as distinguished from 
 night, includes the time between the rising and set- 
 ting of the sun, and rain is water descending from 
 the clouds, sometimes slowly, and in small particles, 
 sometimes swiftly, and in numberless drops filling 
 the whole atmosphere, equal in diameter to the largest 
 shot which sportsmen use for ducks and pigeons. It 
 is fortunate for human bipeds, that those large drops 
 
INKLINGS. 185 
 
 are made a liquid substance and with specific gravity- 
 less than the metal referred to, otherwise the predic- 
 tion of a certain Miller might have been accomplish^ 
 ed before it was prognosticated. Dictionary defini- 
 tions of words and phrases do not produce perfect 
 satisfaction. We can see how the words are pro- 
 nounced, and a few examples may be given to illus- 
 trate their use, but they are given so much like a 
 general's orders to his marshals and cohorts, that we 
 feel relieved from restriction when we pass beyond 
 their control. In some parts of the world it never 
 rains. Some one says, it never rains in certain parts 
 of Chili. It is often stated that there is no rain in 
 Egypt. In these places, the moisture of the atmos- 
 phere must be condensed by the coolness of the 
 nights, and descend in the form of dew. This, with 
 the overflowing of rivers from countries where it does 
 rain, must furnish the necessary supply of water. In 
 some countries, rain, clouds and fogs are prevailing 
 characteristics through the varying year, and a day 
 of gladdening sunshine must be valued like those 
 angel visits, few and far between. There is a differ- 
 ence between a rainy day and a thunder storm, either 
 seldom terminating in the other. The storm often 
 succeeds the morning, like sweet sixteen reclining 
 upon the mossy bank of rivulet, tinkling over rocks 
 and pebbles, and measuring with varying chime the 
 pulse of Nature which throbs with universal pleas- 
 ure. In the west, a single, dark cloud raises its head 
 above the horizon, like some Titan of the ancients, 
 
186 INKLINGS. 
 
 and looks frowningly around upon the scene. He 
 soon raises head and shoulders above the line of vis- 
 ion, and on flank and rear, his swarthy legions as- 
 semble around this monarch of the storm. Over the 
 impenetrable battlements can be seen squadrons with 
 their leaders, in solid phalanx majestically wheeling to 
 the right and left, and forming in the rear ; their long, 
 dark outline, reminding of huge waves rolled up- 
 ward to the shore; by Vulcan chained to mountains 
 on the land. Slowly, by unseen hands their banners 
 are unfurled, a pall to be spread over universal Na- 
 ture. The hoarse, muttering thunder announces the 
 approach of this terrible array. The quick,red glare 
 of 1>he lightning flash, paints upon the banners of the 
 storm, the emblem of its mission upon the earth. 
 Flash answers flash as signal of the storm ; thunder 
 echoes back the dismay of thunder. These armies 
 of the sky sweep over the land, and man seems to 
 escape from his insignificance alone. Nature again 
 smiles ; a sad, sweet smile, soon to be changed to 
 gayety and pleasure. 
 
 This is very different from a rainy day. Some- 
 times two or three days seem to pass in preparing for 
 the coming event. Light, fleecy clouds pass through 
 the sky, swift messengers, whose tidings we can only 
 guess by their appearance. Hazy clouds seem sus- 
 pended in the sky, woven into a thousand fantastic 
 forms, or piled together in promiscuous confusion. 
 The air seems changed, the moisture collected in the 
 clouds above, leaving the air below, too light to float 
 
INKLINGS. 187 
 
 away the smoke, which settles upon the ground. A 
 general quiet seems to pervade all nature, and as you 
 retire to rest for the night, with one lingering thought 
 upon the past, in which a few regrets mingle with 
 much self-complacency, hope breathes its confiding 
 promises, that the future will weave the tangled web 
 of affairs into some premium texture. Morning 
 comes, and with it the pattering rain. You rub the 
 eyes, and can scarcely believe the ears, and then 
 thought wanders backward to the time when the 
 rain-drops unconsciously mingled with a passing va- 
 gary of lakes, rivers and fishing tackle. You try to 
 penetrate beyond this point, but all is starless night ; 
 the visions of the night have passed and left no ves- 
 tige behind. The rain continues to descend, a gentle, 
 confused murmur above, and as the light wind chan- 
 ges, the drops come with their tap, tap, against the 
 window. The rain will soon pass, is the next, con- 
 soling thought, and if the wish is not father to the 
 thought, perhaps the judgment is clouded by the 
 weather. A dozen acquaintances within as many 
 miles, are grouped in imagination ; where they were 
 going, and what they will do, are questions which 
 are answered in the most satisfactory way the cir- 
 cumstances will admit. Determined to make the 
 most of the present, you try to give a gusto to the 
 dishes of the breakfast table. The coffee is superb, 
 that is certain, and you taste two or three times to 
 make yourself sure of the fact. The rain continues, 
 not so powerful as before, it has declined into a regu- 
 
188 INKLINGS. 
 
 lar drizzle ; but the streets, who would wish to fath- 
 om them? Well, you can decide on the first thing 
 you will do after the rain, write a letter or two, and 
 then read something, any thing except a rainy day, 
 you have enough of that, at present. 
 
 That subject might be interesting on some pleasant 
 day after the rain, but it is no sovereign balm to ap- 
 ply to the present state of feelings. " If it rain before 
 seven, it will cease before eleven," comes winding its 
 way over the lumber piles of memory, and you won- 
 der who made that old, corn cob, and sent it out to 
 the world nick-named a proverb. You will soon find 
 out how much he knew about it. The rain contin- 
 ues, not a mist, nor a storm ; a regular, perpendicular 
 rain. Not a dog is to be seen in the streets, and how 
 you will get to the post-office, through the quacking 
 of ducks and spluttering of geese, is a question not 
 so important as the passage of the Alps, a question, 
 however, of no small magnitude, involving personal 
 comfort, and perhaps personal safety. Appetite for 
 dinner is below par, and in small demand. It is very 
 difficult to persuade yourself, that table comforts have 
 a delicious flavor. Who would have thought yes- 
 terday of such a rain ? There were some indications 
 of a rain, you gave them a passing notice, attended 
 to other things without thinking that such a rain 
 would follow. And then, your umbrella is gone ; it 
 is generally absent when you need it. The Consti- 
 tution should be changed, so that men can have vest- 
 ed rights in umbrellas. All that long afternoon the 
 
INKLINGS. 189 
 
 rain continues, sometimes almost ceasing long enough 
 to rub the rust from old hopes, and then increasing 
 to the boundary line between a rain and storm. You 
 wonder, if it rains in South America, the East Indies, 
 all over the world ; and whether such rains may be 
 necessary for orange groves, cinnamon and spices. 
 If you have real property, perhaps you think of be- 
 queathing to the public the sum necessary to cover 
 with awning, a path from your house to the post- 
 office, to be used by the people without fee or reward 
 on every rainy day ; in pleasant weather, a three- 
 cent toll-gate to be established for the purpose of re- 
 minding them, that umbrellas should be brought into 
 the confederacy with other property. You wonder 
 what you will dream about the next time you retire 
 for oblivious forgetfulness of this horrid world. You 
 will please take this as a specimen of all rainy days, 
 the number being too great to give each a particular 
 description. 
 
 The second class of rainy days has not yet been 
 considered. The figurative rainy day has a meta- 
 phorical signification closely connected with the lite- 
 ral, its application being very plain and natural. A 
 man has seen many a rainy day, when he has seen 
 friends pass away, the corroding tooth of time leaving 
 its furrows on their once manly forms, or stealthy 
 disease plucking the bloom from their cheeks and 
 planting haggard care upon the ruin it has made. 
 Lingering sickness and fair prospects withered in the 
 bud, may cloud the sunshine of the feelings, and 
 9* 
 
190 INKLINGS. 
 
 cause a rainy day cheered by no golden sunrise of 
 the morrow. The contrast to all these rainy days, 
 presents itself for our contemplation without a partic- 
 ular description, and with an adieu to the whole sub- 
 ject, we will travel onward. 
 
 HABITS. 
 
 Man has been called a bundle of habits. Bundles 
 generally contain a variety of small "notions," of 
 much more consequence to the owner, than to any 
 other individual ; and here the comparison is good. 
 Bandies do not always contain what is supposed to 
 be in them ; and here, also, the similarity continues. 
 Man has been called the creature of circumstances. 
 Now, if circumstances make men, and man is a bun- 
 dle of habits, do circumstances make habits, or habits 
 make circumstances? One of these conclusions 
 would seem to be the natural result of these two tru- 
 isms combined. If circumstances make habits, and 
 habits make men, then man is the toy of chance and 
 the sport of fortune, or accomplishes the specific pur- 
 pose for which he was created, and could not possibly 
 deviate from the course which he pursues. If habits 
 are the great lever which moves the world, then cir- 
 cumstances become a subsequent of this antecedent, 
 and man has control over his own habits, or has no 
 
INKLINGS. 191 
 
 control over his own destiny. If we ascribe to each 
 of these maxims a controlling influence, without ad- 
 mitting the unlimited power of either, their applica- 
 tion in numerous instances may be explained, and 
 the mind remain unembarrassed with formidable ob- 
 jections. An individual may assert his independence 
 during the first friendly embraces of a new habit, 
 but, by degrees it may twine itself around the will, 
 until the will has lost all power to resist its impor- 
 tunities ; and then sickness, a change of other 
 habits, or some startling emergency can alone rouse 
 the dormant energies of the sleeper, and burst the 
 bonds which bind him a captive to his habit. Per- 
 haps some one will say, if circumstances had not 
 placed the temptation in his way, the habit never 
 would have been acquired ; but may we not look 
 ♦further, to man's desires, and his own free will to 
 control them? The objector may say, man's will 
 may be free, and yet of little consequence, if it have 
 not power to control his appetites and passions ; and 
 to this may be replied, if you give a colt the whole 
 length of the halter, you must not be surprised if 
 he drag you after him, or break away entirely from 
 your control. The mental organization, blending 
 with a strong development of some physical laws, 
 may give a tendency to certain habits ; circumstan- 
 ces may favor that tendency, and in this way the 
 w T eb of a man's destiny may seem to be woven by 
 the fates themselves. The course of the fountain 
 may be changed, but after it has passed over hills 
 
192 INKLINGS. 
 
 and plains, arid through valleys with their tributa- 
 ries, increasing its dimensions with its advance, until 
 it has become a river upon which the commerce of 
 a nation may float, winds and tides may agitate its 
 surface, but they can not change its course, 
 
 A great influence may be attributed to example, in 
 the formation of habits ; for man is an imitative be- 
 ing, inclined to follow in the footsteps of others. 
 Some may be like an instrument of music, the strings 
 dangling in every gale of popular opinion and im- 
 pulse, without producing any vibrations which re- 
 spond to the power that moves them : a few are like 
 the same instrument strung to its highest tension, un- 
 moved by the gentle breeze, and .responding only to. 
 the whirlwind and storm. They resemble a comet 
 blazing athwart the sky, a wanderer from other sys- 
 tems, asking no borrowed light from sun or moon, 
 pursuing a pathway lighted by its own corruscations. 
 These are the exceptions which are said to confirm 
 a general rule. A man can not pursue all the plans 
 and notions which fall within the limits of his obser- 
 vation, for the adoption of one, may preclude the pos- 
 sibility of pursuing the other. His reason, feelings, 
 taste and habits, may cause the rejection of many 
 things presented for his imitation, but when his own 
 inclinations are equally divided in the balance, so 
 that a feather would turn the scale, the example, and 
 opinion of the world resulting from that example, 
 may cause either side to preponderate. 
 
 You may think you care very little about the 
 
INKLINGS. 193 
 
 world ; but when you undertake to move it, you will 
 find yourself on the short arm of the lever, a few 
 inches from the fulcrum ; the world on the long arm, 
 at an infinite distance, and having as great advan- 
 tage in weight, as in position. Another consideration 
 should not not be forgotten. All men inhabit the 
 same globe, yet each individual lives in a world of 
 his own. Independent of the real difference which 
 is presented to various persons, like the changes in a 
 landscape viewed from a variety of positions, the ru- 
 ling fancy of every individual, invests the scene with 
 a charm peculiarly his own. 
 
 " Know thyself." is a maxim so good and old, 
 That of it you probably need not be told ; 
 And yet to do this, as a part of my plan. 
 Know well human nature developed in man. 
 
 THE SPHERE OF TALENT. 
 
 Man is like a labyrinth filled with narrow, devious 
 passages, all terminating in some certain point: but 
 who will find that thread of Daedalus, which can 
 safely guide him through all its windings ? Man pre- 
 sents a subject replete with interest, for his own con- 
 templation. The construction of his body, and the 
 organization of his mind, are subjects upon which he 
 
194 INKLINGS. 
 
 may meditate with delight. In his physical forma- 
 tion he discovers displays of wisdom and power, un- 
 equaled in the wide world of animated nature. Even 
 in his external appearance, man beholds in his "erect 
 countenance" a superiority over all other beings 
 around him. But when he directs his attention with- 
 in himself, to the complicated machinery of the hu- 
 man mind, the admiration which the first view elic- 
 its, is lost in the amazement which succeeds it. In 
 searching the whole creation, he finds nothing which 
 bewilders with so intricate mazes, as the mysterious 
 mover and guide of his own actions. Yet there is 
 much pleasure in observing the operations of its va- 
 rious departments. We can recall scenes of the past 
 and bring them so vividly before us, that for a mo- 
 ment they appear realities. We can place ourselves 
 in childhood among little associates, and again enjoy 
 their innocent amusements. The unfading beauties 
 which we have gathered from the field of science, 
 memory presents for mental food, whose deliciousness 
 is better known by experience, than it can be from 
 descriptive words. And when we view the creative 
 powers of the fancy, we are astonished with the bold- 
 ness of its daring flights. It appears to delight in 
 untried paths, and in employing its inventive genius 
 in erecting fabrics for its own amusement. Much un- 
 like the speculations of fancy are the sober deduc- 
 tions of reason, by which we are enabled to investi- 
 gate and ascertain with absolute certainty, truths of 
 the most sublime character which can be presented 
 to the mind of man. 
 
INKLINGS, 195 
 
 But when we turn our attention from the native 
 characteristics of greatness in man, both physical 
 and mental, to his actions and conduct in life, the in- 
 terest which we feel, is chiefly of a painful kind. 
 Even those who have stamped, everlasting infamy 
 upon their names, by their debasing deeds of cruelty ? 
 are many, when compared with the few, who have 
 been eminent as benefactors of mankind. The great- 
 est labor of the historian has been to delineate the 
 exploits of those who have led thousands to the field 
 of slaughter, for the sole purpose of augmenting their 
 power and fame : as if that glory was greatest, which 
 is purchased with the greatest effusion of human 
 blood. Alas, how few of the great men who have 
 lived, from Charles the victor in a hundred battles, 
 to Alexander the conqueror of the world, are worthy 
 . of remembrance, except for deeds of inhumanity, for 
 aspiring after power and wealth, and for immortal- 
 izing their names at the price of peace and liberty! 
 In days famed for darkness in the annals of preceding 
 ages, we read of those who employed their inventive 
 genius in constructing instruments for the torture of 
 their fellow man, and beheld with unmoistened eye, 
 scenes which would draw tears from the subjects of 
 Pluto's realms. 
 
 If these examples prove, that the exalting faculties 
 of the mind serve to debase, when employed upon 
 improper objects, we find the names of a few recor- 
 ded, who, employing their talents in their proper 
 sphere, and performing much in ameliorating the con- 
 
196 INKLINGS. 
 
 dition of man, will long be remembered with grati- 
 tude and pointed to as examples worthy of imita- 
 tion. We pity the ambition of kings, their restless 
 strife for power and fame, and envy Socrates. his calm 
 self-possession, always the same, whether in prosper- 
 ity or exile ; and his happiness, resulting from his 
 even temper and the rectitude of his intentions. Pho- 
 cion the Good and Aristides the Just, names infinitely 
 more exalting than emperor, are characters upon 
 which we love to dwell, and admire the true great- 
 ness and ennobling motives which influenced all their 
 actions. Rome has produced a Brutus and Cato, for 
 Freedom to admire and her friends to lament, who, 
 for the liberty of their country, were willing to draw 
 the assassin's dagger and encounter the danger of 
 civil commotion. And if those who held the key of 
 power and knowledge during the years of darkness 
 which shroud the history of man, had not employed 
 fortune's favorite gifts in projects which disgrace its 
 pages, how different would have been the prospect, 
 when Luther began to dispel the gloom of ages ! The 
 herculean task which others had prepared for him, 
 erected his own imperishable monument ; and all the 
 champions of the Reformation might have been as 
 unknown as the votaries of ambition, had their re- 
 nown depended upon their intrinsic worth. And in 
 more modern times, the long catalogue of those who 
 have blest the world with discoveries in science, and 
 the diffusion of knowledge and Christianity, presents 
 subjects of thrilling interest for our reflection. The 
 
INKLING?. 197 
 
 names of Bacon and Locke will not be forgotten, as 
 long as high attainments in literature, and deep- 
 searching investigation shall entitle them to a tribute 
 of respecj ; and Newton will live in remembrance, 
 as long as philosophy itself shall be considered ex- 
 alting to the mind. The merits of Franklin, inter- 
 woven with our nation's history, and as a statesman 
 and philosopher recorded upon the roll of immortali- 
 ty, are known and felt too deeply by his grateful 
 country, to require the meed of untaught eulogy. 
 
 But who shall write the epitaph of those who have 
 unfolded the mystery, and illumined the darkness, 
 which the skeptic has thrown around the Christian's 
 path ? What pen shall describe the praise due to the 
 little band, in which an Edwards is conspicuous, an 
 ornament of which theology is " proud to boast? 79 
 What tongue shall tell the virtues of "the noble few," 
 who, like a Brainard, animated with genuine benevo- 
 lence, have employed their lives for the good of man ? 
 Let not frail mortal aspire to achievements which 
 language is too feeble to execute ! The withering 
 trophies which man could erect to their memories, 
 would but mock their real greatness. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TO THE PUBLISHER OF THE UNION MAGAZINE. 
 
 The number that you sent me, Sir, was elegant and fine, 
 And ripe for treason he must be, its contents would decline ; 
 The gentle murmur of the stream that from Castalia flows, 
 Was mingled with the tasteful facts and fancies of our woes. 
 
 To fancy's magic power, has annointed genius given 
 The right to dispel our tears, to soothe the heart when riven ; 
 It lures from a vale of clouds, to that beauteous mountain, 
 Where peace glides with the rill, from the Castalian fountain. 
 
 Like eaglet perched upon a rock, above the ocean's roar, 
 Which measures with its eye the space, and longs in flight to soar, 
 Then drooping, hovers half-afraid to try the azure sky, 
 'Till beckoned upward by a flight above the clouds on high : 
 
INKLINGS. 199 
 
 Thus we, oppressed by the clouds of darkening gloom and sorrow, 
 And weary with doleful thoughts of some mishap to-morrow, 
 Our fancies bright, on awkward wings may try in vain to ily 5 
 Until the eagle of the sky has beckoned us on high. 
 
 THE SIGH. 
 
 Loud sounds the merry laugh, 
 
 All, pleasure seem to quaff 
 From goblets filled with innocence and glee. 
 
 "When cease the notes to thrill, 
 
 Like spring birds in their trill, 
 A sigh escaped, imprisoned by the free. 
 
 Speak, fair one, tell me true, 
 
 Why came that sigh from you, 
 Whose eye alone could dry the fount of tears ? 
 
 Why, when the laugh did cease, 
 
 And all was quiet peace, 
 That sigh arose to free the heart from fears. 
 
 Was it to memory given, — 
 From some beloved one driven 
 
200 INKLINGS. 
 
 By cruel fate or unrelenting foe 1 
 Fear not the rude world's scorn. 
 The piercing of that thorn 
 
 "Which probes too deep, the cause of other's woe. 
 
 The peaceful lake at rest, 
 
 Has imaged on its breast. 
 Stars which in the arch above are shining. 
 
 They tremble on the wave. 
 
 And then themselves to save, 
 Flee from the lake with rude storm repining. 
 
 They flee but to return, 
 
 So let your bosom burn, 
 Until life's embers in its hopes expire. 
 
 Then upward wing your way, 
 
 Where angels chant their lay ; 
 This is my hope, and this is my desire. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 Hope is a truant boy, oft from reason straying, 
 Hope is a butterfly, in a sun-beam playing ; 
 
INKLINGS. 201 
 
 Hope is an image bright, from a mirror taken, 
 Hope is a dream at night, gone when we awaken. 
 
 Hope is a drop of dew, on the meadow shining, 
 Hope is a maiden true, for her love repining ; 
 Hope is a telescope, which brings an object near, 
 Hope is a sovereign balm, to quiet every fear. 
 
 Hope is a bird that sings in the gayest bowers, 
 Hope is the bee that brings sweet from all the flowers ; 
 Hope is the sun we see, when no sun is shining, 
 Hope is what we may be, without all defining. 
 
 Hope is a ship at sea, when you write a sonnet, 
 
 Hope is a goodly tree, with fair blossoms on it ; 
 
 Hope is the dirge we sing when friends have passed away, 
 
 Hope spreads immortal wings, and bears us from our clay. 
 
 REMARKS ON CRITICISM. 
 
 If it is true that Pope lisped in numbers, the de- 
 fect is scarcely perceptible in his work, although in 
 
202 INKLINGS. 
 
 some places he approaches very near to a hiss. I 
 have sometimes thought, he must have been nourish- 
 ed in his younger days, with crab-apples, vinegar, 
 and aquafortis. He says, that the tree will grow as 
 the twig is bent, which no sober man will dispute. 
 But he intends to say more, that like that tree, man 
 is formed by education. Now, dear reader, it would 
 take more bendings than you would be willing to be- 
 stow, to make the prickles of the thorn grow upon 
 the cherry tree, or apples upon the thorn. You might 
 give the tree a general direction, but its distinctive 
 character would appear ; from which it seems, that 
 different men may be compared with various trees, 
 for a better reason, than man with the whole class. 
 In another place he complains, that some one had not 
 learned to blot a line. On turning over a few pages 
 a blot appeared, which caused some trouble, until 
 Pope concluded to give me a few credit-marks for it. 
 We know very well what he intends, and this was in- 
 troduced for the benefit of some critics, to show how 
 easy it is to find faults, and pervert the meaning, 
 when any one wishes. The presumption of the law 
 is, that every man is compos mentis, unless the con- 
 trary be shown ; but some critics presume the contra- 
 ry, and undertake to prove it by the dim reflection of 
 their own heads, which are not bright enough to re- 
 flect the image. This class of critics will do little 
 injury, for while they strain out the gnat, which 
 makes them wise in their own estimation, they swal- 
 low little wrigglers for the amusement of innocent 
 spectators* 
 
INKLINGS. 203 
 
 There is another class much more to be feared. 
 They profess much charity for human frailty, tell 
 you that genius should be encouraged, profess a 
 friendship for the writer, call him by some familiar 
 name, as ray Tom, Dick, or Harry, and when he is 
 well daubed with slime and slaver, they prepare to 
 swallow him after the most approved, tropical fash- 
 ion. Approaching to a contemplative distance, the 
 rumination is something like the following : "Fine 
 fellow — plump, nice game. Head not very large, 
 just a decent termination of the body — have swallow- 
 ed larger without any inconvenience. May cause 
 some trouble between shoulders and hips, but think 
 that can be managed. Make a good meal for a week 
 — wonder where he got all the nice things to make 
 him so fair !" We will pass over the remaining pro- 
 ceedings, as they must be disagreeable to all, except 
 the operator. 
 
 There is yet another class which remains unmen- 
 tioned; the smiling, sneering critics, who presume 
 that a sarcastic smile, or aboriginal grunt will destroy 
 forever the reputation of any writer. Their impu- 
 dence is equaled only by their egotism. They think 
 that a nod, a smile, a leer, or a wink, can make or 
 ruin the reputation of any writer, without giving any 
 reason, but their sovereign pleasure. Sometimes they 
 show a refinement worthy of a better cause— 
 
 -" assent with civil leer, 
 
 And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer." 
 
204 INKLINGS, 
 
 If they are not beneath contempt, they deserve it 
 more than all other things disguised in human shape. 
 A public enemy is entitled to honor, but a secret ca- 
 lumniator should wear a pewter medal tied around 
 his neck with a tow string, the word "reptile" en- 
 graved upon it in large characters. If you are pub- 
 licly assailed with malice or ridicule, you can talk of 
 swords and pistols, and use them, when you are in 
 haste to leave your troubles ; you can make yourself 
 as low as your assailant, and hurl back his epithets 
 upon his own head ; you can submit with a mulish 
 patience or Christian grace, and show yourself imper- 
 vious to the shafts of malice, whether guided by the 
 feather wit, or barbed with brazen insolence. But 
 you can not pursue the same course with the other. 
 You are like one groping in the dark, often near an 
 enemy when seeking a friend. 
 
 The blacksmith must be the best judge of iron, the 
 tailor of cloth. It is true they may be scholars and 
 good judges of other things, but this is no objection 
 to their excelling in the selection of articles used 
 daily by them ; and you would not choose one to de- 
 cide upon colors, who could not tell green from blue, 
 or red from pink. The critic should be competent to 
 judge, and should not abuse his judgment with pre- 
 judice, wit, or sarcasm. The same subject may sug- 
 gest very different reflections to the same individual, 
 depending upon time, place, the feelings, and previ- 
 ous reflections. When friends leave you, fortune 
 frowns, disease gnaws the bark from the tree of hap- 
 
INKLINGS. 205 
 
 piness, you gaze upon the moon, and it is then the 
 pale, silent listener to your tale of woe; let friends 
 and health return, and the bright, silver moon-beams 
 dance upon the gentle waves. If a work has no 
 merits, it is beneath criticism, as it must show a de- 
 praved taste, for any one to be seen playing in a fil- 
 thy pool ; and commendation of excellencies and beau- 
 ties, is as much a part of criticism, as censure of de- 
 fects. A critic should be a friend, tell us for our o 
 benefit where he thinks we are in fault ; and in this 
 he may be mistaken, since no man may justly claim 
 perfection. He should advise us of such things as 
 are commendable, that we may compare his taste 
 with others', leave failures and cultivate parts more 
 pleasing and successful. When the critic ceases to be 
 a friend, he becomes a satirist or libeler. 
 
 Criticism is not confined to books and writers. 
 Public speakers are often a target for its shafts, point- 
 ed and hardened through the heat of party prejudice, 
 and painted with all the gaudy colors with which 
 cruel selfishness betrays its wanton joy in the barbar- 
 ous work. There are some who seem to know little 
 of the proper use of the faculty of speech. Their 
 tongues eternally wag, first on one subject, and then 
 on another, thinking it is very little consequence 
 which way they roll the ball, if they only keep it 
 roiling. Sometimes they make a tremedous rush up- 
 on the whole human race, declare every one a sim- 
 pleton, and settle down into a repose sublimely ridic- 
 ulous. Tlxey remind me of a reply once given by 
 10 
 
206 INKLINGS. 
 
 an inmate of bedlam, when questioned about the 
 reason of his being there. He said, that he called 
 all the world crazy, and all the world called him 
 crazy ; and thereupon a dispute arose, and in the 
 quarrel he was overpowered by numbers. This is 
 one extreme ; now take the other, the man whose 
 bosom warmed with universal benevolence for every 
 body and every thing, praises all without discrimina- 
 tion. He is a man who will do little mischief in so- 
 ciety, and generally is wanting in nerve to do much 
 good. You know his opinion upon a subject, as well 
 before he is consulted, as afterwards ; whatever you 
 propose is good, all good, and in this way he may do 
 some undesigned mischief, By observing his com- 
 paratives and superlatives, you may possibly make a 
 distinction in his opinions, and a little more combafc- 
 iveness in his composition, enough to say no, when 
 the case requires it, would make him — the scandal 
 of his neighborhood. "We love him with all his 
 faults, much more than we should without them. 
 But there is a sunshine of the face, which extends 
 not to the heart. A man may be a church-member, 
 attend service regularly, bless his daily bread with 
 daily prayers for more, greet his poor neighbor with 
 a kind " good morning," and yet refuse to assist him 
 in distress; too selfish to pray for him, if he could 
 slip into heaven without. This poor man has anoth- 
 er neighbor, who sometimes swears at his cattle, but 
 will draw him a load of wood when he needs it, and 
 give him a shoulder of mutton when starving. It is 
 
INKLINGS. 207 
 
 a pity this last character would not join the Church 
 and turn the other member out. 
 
 Criticism may lead to very serious consequences. 
 Our ancestors criticised the absurd notions of the 
 British parliament on the subject of taxation, and a 
 contest followed. You do not expect me to enter in- 
 to all the particulars of this controversy, for the sci- 
 ence of politics is indeed too profound, it presents too 
 many intricacies, to expect a knowledge of all i:s 
 windings from the inexperienced. It would require 
 intellectual energies equal to the physical strength 
 of fabled Hercules, and its performance might as 
 justly be celebrated, as his twelve labors. Yet in 
 this, as in other sciences, we find the whole super- 
 structure based upon a few, simple, elementary truths, 
 sufficiently intelligible to be comprehended by the 
 humblest capacity. Were this not so, no people 
 could be found capable of self-government; for a 
 knowledge of the object of government, implies a 
 a knowledge of the fundamental rules for its opera- 
 tion. This is also proved by reasoning of the most 
 convincing kind, the reasoning of experience. More 
 than a half century has demonstrated, that British 
 colonies not only possessed sufficient intelligence for 
 self-government, but were able to form confederacies 
 from the most discordant materials, and successfully 
 dispute the rights of freemen with the sea-girt mis- 
 tress of the waves, who had snatched from Neptune 
 the trident of the ocean. There still remain a few, 
 whose snowy locks remind us of life's wintery scene, 
 
208 INKLINGS. 
 
 yet they linger to rehearse the thrice-told tale of 
 bloody conflicts. And could they live, and tell with 
 artless eloquence to future generations, the story of 
 their wrongs, hardships and sufferings, our re- 
 public would stand upon a foundation, as firm as ad- 
 amant. Could each successive generation see the 
 furrowed cheek, the channel of the flowing heart, 
 and hear the voice tremulous with the recital of the 
 battle field, with its shrieks of wounded, groans of 
 dying, heaps of slain, and streams of human gore, 
 and be told, that this was the price of the favored 
 institutions of their country, no man possessed of hu- 
 man feelings, could wish to subvert them. But their 
 lips will soon be closed in silence, not one will be left 
 to admonish us not to trifle with blood-bought privi- 
 leges, and time alone can unfold to us the mysteries 
 of the unseen future. 
 
 The careless critic, who cuts and thrusts like a 
 young lieutenant anxious to show the world that he 
 can wield a manly weapon, is in more danger of 
 committing suicide, than manslaughter. The critic 
 can not gather fruit from the shadow of a fruitful 
 bough, nor expect the world to leave nature and its 
 laws, for some standard of fancied excellence. That 
 " all men are created equal," is a sentiment which 
 was advanced by the founders of our freedom in the 
 declaration of their rights, and which has ever been 
 cherished by the philanthropist. With respect to 
 "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,' 7 the wise 
 and virtuous may not disagree ; but as in this age of 
 
INKLINGS- 209 
 
 discovery and improvement, many old doctrines are 
 remodeled, and not a few found, which are entirely 
 new, it is not surprising that we hear of one, based 
 upon the term equality, but taken in a wider, or at 
 least, in a different sense from that in which it is quo- 
 ted. The most prominent characteristic of this new 
 doctrine is, that all men are created equal in intellect. 
 This is a general rule, to which, of course, there may 
 be a few exceptions. Perhaps the advocates of this 
 sentiment, which appears at first sight to be absurd, 
 will be troubled to prove their position ; but be that 
 as it may, it is certain, many things may be said in 
 its favor. The ground upon which they build their 
 belief, is, that " the thinking faculty contains all the 
 machinery of operation, yet, in itself it is inoperative, 
 and uninfluenced by external objects, it would lie for- 
 . ever dormant. In other words, there are no innate 
 ideas, the mind emerging into existence, is a blank : 
 all thought is excited by objects without." An ar- 
 gument they employ, is that of circumstances. They 
 contend that the difference between man and man, 
 is made by outward circumstances alone ; and if, up- 
 on this principle they can account for the various dif- 
 ferences which exist in the world, the theory is most 
 clearly proved. The difference between the savage 
 and sage, is caused by education. We have good 
 reason to believe, that the aborigines of this country 
 would equal ourselves in knowledge, if they possess- 
 ed equal advantages for acquiring it ; and white 
 children have been taken by them, who soon became 
 
210 INKLINGS. 
 
 as rude as their associates. It may be objected, that 
 the Indian, after he has been educated, has sought his 
 own race, and the White, after years of captivity, has 
 returned to the abodes of civilization. But the mind 
 may receive lasting impressions, when young ; its 
 pliant powers may receive an indelible impression in 
 infancy. It may be further objected, that the inhabi- 
 tants of the polar regions possess minds as dwarfish 
 as their bodies, and far inferior to the gigantic intel- 
 lects of the temperate zone. It may be answered, 
 that climate, called in this theory one of the physi- 
 cal circumstances, is the cause of the difference, and 
 there is not of necessity any difference by creation. 
 Many objections can be answered by a moment's re- 
 flection, and from a person familiar with the philoso- 
 phy of the mind, all objections might vanish. 
 
 We all have equal rights, and this the critic should 
 remember, if he claims for himself an intellectual 
 superiority.. To select a suitable subject, arrange his 
 ideas properly, and clothe them with such language 
 as shall convey their meaning without ambiguity, is 
 not among the least of the hard tasks of the student, 
 for many he has to perform. There are subjects 
 which would be suitable and interesting, but unfortu- 
 nately for the scholar, wiser men, perhaps not natu- 
 rally wiser, but wiser by age and experience, have 
 spoken and written upon them, till they have lost 
 much of their interest, and present dry and barren 
 topics for a composition. He is obliged from the ne- 
 cessity of the case, if little acquainted with the art 
 
INKLINGS. 211 
 
 of expressing his thoughts, to speak of an old subject, 
 so as to make it appear new. or to venture upon a 
 new one, original remarks. But the industrious, the 
 persevering and determined scholar will overcome all 
 obstacles, such as at first view appear to be insur- 
 mountable barriers. His way is onward. He has 
 heard the saying, that resolution is omnipotent, and 
 not content with the theory, he is determined to know 
 by experience, whether the assertion be true or not. 
 And as long as " labor omnia vineit' is his motto, he 
 marches with gigantic strides towards the temple of 
 fame. Should the question be asked the most learn- 
 ed and honored of our country, what secret they dis- 
 covered which advanced them to their envied emi- 
 nence, they might tell us, that when young, they were 
 most unwaveringly determined to merit the laurels 
 which they had won, and their untiring zeal had 
 placed them in their present situation. They might 
 also tell us, that in their youth they had not as fair 
 prospects, as thousands of their competitors. 
 
 Intellectual pleasures are generally considered su- 
 perior to sensual, and if it is true, that anticipation is 
 a source of greater happiness than fruition, it is evi- 
 dent the mind, including its exercises of memory, 
 reason, and imagination, is the source of man's sweet- 
 est bliss. No one may enjoy as much real happiness, 
 as when fancy builds its airy castles to amuse him. 
 His imagination may paint situations, which for a 
 moment seem to be real and produce all the pleasure 
 of a reality, which he never will obtain. Fancy will 
 
212 INKLINGS. 
 
 always soar beyond reality. The ambitious may 
 have wandered as much further than the rest of their 
 race in imaginary worlds, as they have ascended 
 higher in stern realities. Imagination and fancy may 
 have guided and excited them onward. Bonaparte 
 may have painted in boyhood, when the mind was 
 receiving lasting impressions, brighter crowns, more 
 durable honors, and a greater sway, than he ever ob- 
 
 led. But fancy and imagination are not all of the 
 1 which produce pleasure. The pursuit of knowl- 
 edge in which memory and reason are concerned, 
 may gratify and please enough to amply repay the 
 necessary toil. 
 
 Geographical knowledge may cause many unem- 
 ployed hours to pass pleasantly in musing upon the 
 various productions of the earth, the character of the 
 inhabitants of different countries, and in presenting 
 to the mind majestic rivers and lofty mountains, beau- 
 tiful forests and prairies, and the different species of 
 animals which inhabit them. History furnishes the 
 material for passing many an hour agreeably, when 
 there would otherwise be a void which no sensual 
 pleasure could fill. Through this, we can commune 
 with the illustrious of other days, and see the small- 
 est causes producing the greatest revolutions, admire 
 the virtue and greatness of some of the names re- 
 sided, and abhor the boundless avarice and ambi- 
 . tion of others. Astronomy may be said to be the 
 most exalted of the sciences, but there is much inter- 
 est in the laws of attraction, the principles of mech- 
 
INKLINGS. 213 
 
 anism, and in the study of the different minerals and 
 gases. Mathematics and the languages are above 
 the suspicion of being uninteresting, and he, whose 
 mind is stored with a knowledge of the arts and 
 sciences, is prepared to live happy in any situation 
 in which he may be placed. 
 
 " Variety is the spice of life, which gives it all its 
 flavor." The author of this often quoted sentence 
 has escaped me, but whoever he may be, it proves 
 him to be a person of no ordinary attainments. It is 
 one of those rare sentences upon which the mind 
 loves to dwell, like some things we find in the physi- 
 cal world, which present new beauties upon a second 
 examination. I have often seen these words, but sel- 
 dom, without their exciting pleasant feelings and fur- 
 nishing my mind with an agreeable subject for con- 
 templation. The truth of the sentiment contained 
 in them, is demonstrated by surveying every thing 
 around us. Forests have much beauty added to 
 them by the variety with which they abound. This 
 may seem to be a trifling circumstance, but the natu- 
 ralist, and indeed every person of good taste, must 
 observe how much beauty variety adds to the stately 
 forest. The farmer who possesses a cultivated mind 
 and refined taste, beholds in the variety with which 
 his fields are decorated, illustrations of the wisdom 
 and goodness of the great Ruler of all things. Flow- 
 ers, although of least importance in the vegetable 
 kingdom, are far from being the least beautiful, and 
 their beauty is increased by their great variety. An- 
 10* 
 
214 INKLINGS. 
 
 imals claim attention when this subject is considered, 
 but without enumerating all the various tribes which 
 are found from the polar regions to the equator, our 
 own latitude presents a variety calculated to add to 
 our comfort and pleasure. The feathered tribe, 
 though not as necessary for our happiness as quad- 
 rupeds, is not useless ; and the multitude of species 
 which " wing the sky," differing in plumage and song, 
 is truly astonishing. The highly curious can discov- 
 er beauties through optical instruments, among in- 
 jects ; and what countless numbers fashioned most 
 curiously for their sphere, glide through the watery 
 element ! 
 
 But the most exalted and mysterious subject for the 
 contemplation of man, is man. The nicest shades 
 of difference, both mental and corporeal, are found 
 among human bipeds. The variety of disposition is 
 probably as great as the race is numerous, and there 
 is the same variety of the individuals that compose 
 the great family of man. After contemplating the 
 variety of animate and inanimate nature, from man 
 to the most M despicable insect," and from the sturdy 
 oak to the lowly flower, we are naturally brought to 
 the conclusion, that were it not for variety, we should 
 feel like a traveler in a vast, sandy desert, which in- 
 spires awe for the power of that Being who created 
 the wide waste around, but who is ignorant of the 
 pleasing emotions of reverence and love, produced 
 by viewing displays of wisdom and goodness ! 
 
INKLINGS. §15 
 
 The following lines are intended for critics, not for 
 criticism : 
 
 Let truth immutable ever be taught, 
 
 Justice inflexible ever be sought, 
 
 And charity mild ne'er ask to be bought, 
 
 And knowledge crown their triumph. 
 
CHAPTER XVII, 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Now comes the snow, like feathers floating 
 
 Through all the silent air ; 
 And Winter, like an old man doting, 
 
 Beguiles of restless care. 
 
 The snow-bird flies to the icy bough, 
 
 Where robin sung her song ; 
 In the air, the cold leaf quivers now, 
 
 And follows all its throng. 
 
 The merry bells, their music jingle, 
 While glides the sleigh along; 
 
 The belles and beaux, while ears do tingle, 
 All, all to mirth belong. 
 
INKLINGS. 217 
 
 Cold Winter's frozen tears are shining 
 
 Like crystals in the light. 
 And who can think, without repining. 
 
 Of woes which meet the sight ? 
 
 The cheerful blaze, on the cottage hearth, 
 
 "While round the inmates smile, 
 And plenty, pleased with the social mirth. 
 
 And wit, the hours beguile, 
 
 think of the lone, wandering son, 
 
 Of want, surviving heir ; 
 Now to kindness let your hearts be won> 
 
 And. bless him with a share 1 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Pair as Aurora, daughter of the morn. 
 Fair as bright Phoebus and the goddess born. 
 "We hail thee ; Spring ! Ye fair Nine who derive 
 From memory, if cold winter ye survive, 
 Warm with your ardor sweet, the glowing line ; 
 
218 INKLINGS. 
 
 The praise be due to the immortal Nine ! 
 The portals of the east are opened wide, 
 Night's sable curtain now is drawn aside. 
 And rosy-fingered morn soon paints the lawn 
 With all the sweetness of the blushing dawn. 
 Sol gilds the mountain tops, adorns the spires, 
 And lights the windows with his golden fires ; 
 Pursues dark shadows through their western way, 
 Pours on the earth his beamy flood of day. 
 The vision of the night soon fades away, 
 That mental ramble of the mind astray, 
 That echo of the soul when passions sleep, 
 That harvest rich which angels help to reap. 
 The meadows wake, and all the fields around 
 Are vocal with the melody of sound, 
 Hymning His praise, who, high above the day, 
 Guides and sustains the linnet's tuneful lay. 
 On yonder mossy bank, where streamlets play 
 With flowers blooming in the month of May, 
 The songsters of the thicket and the grove, 
 Bask in the sunshine, or in fragrance rove. 
 The stately forest in its gayest green, 
 Now rustling, nodding in the air is seen, 
 Waving its gentle branches in the breeze ; 
 Thus Nature rocks her children of the trees. 
 Far in the forest may a glen be found, 
 Where deep the leaves have covered all the ground ; 
 Above, the boughs are woven in a bower, 
 
INKLINGS. 219 
 
 A safe retreat from April's gentle shower. 
 Here, when the morning star directs the course 
 Of sable Night with all her specter force, 
 They safe may flee, until the cascade near 
 Is pierced with light, and then with timely fear, 
 Through all the glen to rocks and caverns fly, 
 And there remain while Sol presides on high. 
 The stately forest throws a gentle shade 
 Upon the meadow, near a marshy glade, 
 "Where a brook murmurs, as it rolls along, 
 The gentle cadence of a dying song. 
 Here, to the margin of the stream confined, 
 The yielding earth to wet and dry resigned, 
 The cowslips grow ; and here the lass and lad, 
 Speaking the gentle thought, with eyes all glad 
 With nature's beauty, gather in the store,] 
 To them most grateful who desire no more. 
 Over the fields, the messenger of Spring, 
 The swallow glides upon its dusky wing, 
 Pursues the down which in the air may roam, 
 And bears it gaylyto the humble home. 
 With slender rod and line, and barbed hook, 
 To tempt the tenants of the babbling brook, 
 And thought elate, the fisher takes his way, 
 Well pleased upon the grassy bank to stray. 
 The plow-boy sings of his country's battle, 
 Where arms are gleaming and cannon rattle, 
 Between the verses, whistles to his team ; 
 
220 INKLINGS. 
 
 Sure this the chorus to the song might seem. 
 Perchance a tender, melancholy strain 
 Of woe and want, and their attending train, 
 Flits through his fancy, and he sings the song 
 Of " blue-eyed Mary," in its measure long. 
 The cattle feeding on the plain are seen, 
 The earth is covered with its carpet green, 
 When to the west the Sun inclines his head, 
 And sinks in glory to his evening bed, 
 Casting a furlong shadow on the plain, 
 Like giant old, beyond the liquid main. 
 Near to yon aged thorn, the milk-maid sings, 
 And this the tribute to the Muse she brings. 
 
 SONG OF THE MILK-MAID. 
 
 he was kind and gentle as the smiling month of May, 
 O he was kind and gentle, and as innocently gay 
 As lark that soars to meet the sun at early break of day ; 
 he was kind and gentle as the smiling month of May ! 
 
 His locks were like the raven's wing, his was the eagle eye, 
 His voice was a remembered tone which well might cause a sigh 
 
LINGS. 221 
 
 His spirit was a lofty one which loved to soar on high; 
 His locks were like the raven's wing, his was the eagle eye. 
 
 He left me sad and lonely too, near by yon aged thorn, 
 He ]eft me early in the Spring, when all the blushing morn 
 Was smiling as in sweetness now 3 but then methought in 
 
 scorn ; 
 He left me sad and lonely too, near by yon aged thorn. 
 
 I hope to greet him welcome soon, to greet him welcome Lome. 
 To greet him on a long return from all his worldly roam, 
 Free from all pending danger near, and from the ocean foam ; 
 I hope to greet him welcome soon, to greet him welcome home ! 
 
 TO THE POLAR STAR. 
 
 There thou shinest, as when long years ago 
 I gazed upon thee ! Other stars may brighter 
 Shine, may glitter with a richer splendor. 
 But to me thou art the loveliest gem 
 Which adorns the coronet of Night. 
 Thy paler radiance is more congenial 
 
222 INKLINGS. 
 
 To the thoughts, unbidden, welcome, which throng 
 Around me, as thy mild luster recalls 
 Departed joys, hopes, fears and friends, thou silent 
 Witness of the past ! Couldst thou speak, and tell 
 Me of those lingering thoughts, which like departing 
 Friends, reluctant speak the sad farewell ; couldst 
 Thou answer the queries which rush like mountain 
 Torrents to the plain ; couldst thou relight the 
 Extinguished taper, illumine the dark 
 Pathway along life's rugged shore, and guide 
 Me by its sounding billows, to those safe 
 Retreats, where, sheltered from the storm, I smiled 
 When the hoarse surge lashed the shore in fury ! 
 Then sweet converse we would have, visit each 
 Remembered, sunny spot of memory, and 
 Wake the echoes with names long written in 
 The calendar of time. Thou hast no merry 
 Twinkling which repels the serious thought, fixed 
 Forever to the north, with thy mild, changeless 
 Luster, inviting to the thought serene. 
 Thy silence is eloquent : thy voiceless 
 Voice touches the" ear like the hushed silence 
 Of the sealed lip, which seems to listen to 
 The name, but leaves an aching void unanswered. 
 Friends have gazed on thee, who no more will turn 
 From Ursa Major, pointed to the lone 
 Star, with expanding thought and soul dilating 
 With His power, who suspends that pale lamp in 
 
INKLINGS. 223 
 
 The northern sky. and forever lights its 
 Unextinguished fire. TVe change, but changeless 
 Thou ! Time was. when thou wort a diamond on 
 The pale brow of some fairy queen, whose azure 
 Dress, sparkling with brilliants, was all that could 
 Be seen. Now, we view thee as a world, a 
 Sun, the center of a system ; perhaps 
 The center aroiyid which the universe 
 Revolves, all lighted, varied with hill and 
 Dale, and flowery herb, and bubbling fountain. 
 And green arbor, where the good, on pinions 
 Swift as thought, through all the various scene, all 
 Welcome to them, with tireless wing are borne, 
 TTe hail thee welcome to the sight, because 
 Long absent ones have gazed upon thee, and 
 TTe remember bright visions of the past. 
 Xow fled forever, but their memory still 
 Is sweet ! 
 
 A REPLY. 
 
 It may safely be said that disappointment has al- 
 ways been the lot of mortals ; and it may be said with 
 
224 INKLINGS. 
 
 almost equal safety, that their disappointments have 
 arisen from an unexpected source. For the truth of 
 these assertions, we have only to glance at the history 
 of all past ages. But it is not my present object to 
 speak of them, as connected with what has been in 
 ancient times among the heroes of antiquity, but to 
 apply them to events which have transpired recently, 
 and within the walls of this Institution, dedicated to 
 the arts and sciences, and all thatis'calculated to ex- 
 pand the intellect and elevate the mind. The occur- 
 rence to which 1 refer, is the unexpected and unpro- 
 voked attack made by a gentleman last week, upon 
 the character of the inmates of " No. 7." Perhaps 
 some may be ignorant of the facts which caused the 
 gentleman to make those daring flights in erudition 
 and eloquence, which were echoed by these walls, 
 and through which, indignation might have been 
 seen to glow — on one countenance alone. They were 
 as follows. Two females of the aborigines of our 
 country, came to the Institution, and agreeably to 
 their custom, entered a private room unceremoniously, 
 were seated by the occupants, and after soliciting a 
 little assistance, departed. Such was the transaction 
 marked with vice and immorality, which has cost the 
 gentleman so many tears and bitter pangs, and the 
 most criminal part of which, he insinuates, was fur- 
 nishing those poor wanderers with seats. In reply to 
 the gentleman's charge, I have only to say, that I 
 had formerly supposed it was a sure indication of 
 real greatness, to be civil and kind to those whom 
 
INKLINGS. 225 
 
 nature or circumstances had placed beneath us. But 
 I have found myself mistaken, for the gentleman 
 thinks otherwise. Yet do we not deserve, at least, 
 his charity; for, if these same females had been 
 tinged with a deeper hue, would they not probably 
 have drawn him into the same vortex ? 
 
 There were several other points on which he dwelt 
 at some length, but were not considered by him as 
 criminal as the one mentioned, and I shall therefore 
 leave them and notice the giant-like powers of mind 
 which he displayed in his masterly production. And 
 here permit me to say, that I feel incompetent to the 
 task, and wholly unable to do justice to the gentle- 
 man's glowing descriptions. How beautiful and sub- 
 lime was his delineation of their entrance into the In- 
 stitution ! How worthy of his pen ! To fully real- 
 ize it, imagine yourself standing at a convenient dis- 
 tance in front of the Academy, and viewing with 
 your own eyes, two stately squaws gracefully as- 
 cending the stone steps. Could any one view such 
 a spectacle, unmoved ? Yet this is but a single in- 
 stance, of more than a half dozen which might be 
 mentioned, to show the gentleman's powers of mind. 
 There is not, probably, in all the land, an individual 
 that would not compare with him, like a mountain 
 
 rill with a frog pond ; and among all the orators 
 
 of the past. I know of but few instances that could 
 with any propriety bear the name of our modern 
 Cicero. But, that we may be the better prepared to 
 judge of his superiority, even over the renowned an- 
 
226 INKLINGS. 
 
 cients, we will give a specimen of the gentleman's 
 talents, and compare it with an exclamation of for- 
 mer days. In his last week's production, he says : 
 "A female remarkable for her size, ascended with a 
 graceful step the front stairs of the Academy, and 
 then proceeding to one of the private rooms, entered 
 without ceremony." The spscimen of past oratory, 
 needs only repeating, to be understood: "O that it 
 would but please thee to inhabit with me the low cot- 
 tages — and to shoot stags !" I leave all to judge for 
 themselves, of the merits of each. 
 
 EPISTOLARY EXTRACT. 
 
 When in the course of human events, circum- 
 stances favor the transmission of a few lines to a 
 friend, a decent respect for my own feelings, compels 
 me to improve the opportunity. 
 
 You may, perhaps, anticipate more important news 
 than I have to communicate ; and yet, it probably 
 will not be very surprising, if, in the course of the 
 few days which have passed since we conversed to- 
 gether, I have become little richer, poorer, better, 
 worse or wiser. I have the " News" from New York, 
 to relieve the dull monotony of Graham's Practice ; 
 these, with an occasional ramble in the fields and 
 woods, make up the whole routine of occupation and 
 
INKLINGS 227 
 
 amusement. Did not a law of our nature exist, that 
 the acquisition of knowledge produces pleasure, or, 
 as the school boys have it, — doetrina vitam suavem 
 efficit, — where could we obtain sufficient stimulus, 
 resolution and perseverance, to propel us through all 
 the difficulties of a professional education? And 
 how often, after all the labor and self-denial attend- 
 ing such an education, do we see the young aspirant 
 too weak to receive the extended wreath, recline on 
 the bosom of mother Earth for his last, long sleep ; 
 or, what is worse, living in penury and pining in se- 
 cret over the ingratitude of a world which will not, 
 or can not appreciate his worth ! Sic transit gloria 
 mundi. From such a fate, good Lord deliver us. 
 
 The sum total of human life is composed of many 
 small items, so little, that separately considered, we 
 think them of no value ; but when added, they make 
 an astonishing amount. The opportunities for great 
 performances may not pres Q nt themselves in a life- 
 time ; that "tide in the affairs of men, which, taken 
 at the flood, leads on to fortune," has rarely been seen 
 in season for the venture ; and many have followed 
 the receding wave with regrets which obscured the 
 vision, that they might not see the beauties which 
 were washed upon the shore. Now gay, and then 
 serious, this is human nature ; and in chasing a but- 
 terfly, a man m.o.y leap over a brook whose banks are 
 golden sand, without observing them. The wants of 
 the body necessarily claim a large share of every 
 man's life. The primary wants, rest and food, con- 
 
22S INKLINGS. / 
 
 sume about one-half; and the remaining half is often 
 employed in gratifying some caprice ; and let me say, 
 with all due deference to every body, that we all have 
 our caprices. One, in a nervous regard for the 
 world's opinion, another, in a reckless disregard of it; 
 and thus the world will disagree. Young ladies oft- 
 en have a caprice for a young man with a smooth 
 chin and clean linen ; industrious old men like to see 
 a swarthy face and hardened dexter. These wants 
 and caprices being subtracted from the sum of life, a 
 small balance remains to be devoted to benevolent 
 and philanthropic objects : and this balance is some- 
 times employed, as was jocosely remarked the other 
 day, in backing friends down hill. 
 
 There is one man who is forever telling how many 
 people the doctors kill, and another, who is perpetu- 
 ally on the stump against priest-craft, and yet anoth- 
 er, who, like a fox in a poultry yard, delights in ta- 
 ring off some lawyer for dissection. It is a pity he 
 could not study classics and law, eight or ten years, 
 and then be laughed at, as a good-for-nothing nui- 
 sance. Life has been compared to a stream, and to 
 enlarge a little upon the idea, it is a wide stream, or 
 it could not float all the craft upon it ; and in many 
 places it is very deep, so deep that it can not be fath- 
 omed ; and surely you will agree with me / that some 
 queer fish are caught in its waters. Perhaps you ask 
 by this time, what are you driving at? You shall 
 be answered in the Yankee style, by another ques- 
 tion. Did you ever see a child upon the seashore, col- 
 
INKLINGS 229 
 
 lecting the sand in a long line, and then behind its 
 defence talking bravely to the winds and waves ? 
 The child grew weary with its own harangue, re- 
 tired to the paternal roof for rest and shelter, the tide 
 swept away its little work, and it forgot the aspira- 
 tions which glistened in its eye the day before. 
 
 This place furnishes very lettle news of impor- 
 tance. The sun, moon and stars are here as in other 
 places, that is, we see them from this place, and they 
 come a few hundred feet nearer to us than tide wa- 
 ter ; but that is nothing to boast of, particularly in the 
 winter. Old Mr. Politics died last fall, and very lit- 
 tle has been said about him since his decease. The 
 temperance cause stands below zero in the shade. 
 There is no small-pox, or any thing of that kind, in 
 our breezes, unless it be borne from a great distance. 
 Two or three weddings are talked of, by the old la- 
 dies of course, and it is hopeful the parties will be 
 liberal with their cake ; kissing the bride, up here 
 among the country girls, would be " rather nice ;" 
 and then think of the cake, all crusted over with su- 
 gar ! Bipeds are a very extraordinary class of be- 
 ings, exclusive of the feathered tribe ; and it is a 
 matter of conjecture, whether any thing similar to 
 them could be found in the moon, provided we had 
 an ethereal rail- way, constructed on the principle of 
 the inclined plane, to take us up there. There are 
 mountains up there, five or six times higher than the 
 highest on the earth, according to some astronomical 
 accounts, but no indications of water ; and accord- 
 11 
 
230 INKLINGS. 
 
 ing to my notion, the atmosphere must differ from 
 ours, because it presents uniformly the same appear- 
 ance. But what a moon our earth would make for 
 them up there, the lunarians ! Only think of forty 
 moons in our sky at the same time, and then put 
 them all into one, and it would be a little too light to 
 whisper honey in the ear of the sylvan nymphs of this 
 mundane sphere ! Speaking of nymphs, (you have 
 seen them often, they are what some green ones call 
 girls,) reminds me of a pic-nic which went off, not 
 exploded, but passed gently away since you were 
 here. Some people have said, that country girls of 
 notoriety live only in romances ; that they have swar- 
 thy complexions, masculine hands, large feet and 
 coarse shoes, with holes in their stockings, and all 
 that sort of thing ; but if you had been here, and 
 seen what might have been seen, you would imme- 
 diately have filed a bill in chancery for staying such 
 proceedings. If you ever dreamed of seeing a crea- 
 ture so beautifully bewitching, that you raised your 
 head in a sound sleep from the pillow to kiss the 
 phantom, and found yourself wide awake in pitchy 
 darkness, you may conceive the beauty of the occa- 
 s; >n ; but let me tell you, that roses, violets and dan- 
 delions, and the whole race of vegetable matter, will 
 not furnish a comparison. You may have noticed, 
 that I have indirectly called myself a green one. 
 The truth is, the gun was heavily loaded and kicked 
 a little, but I guess that somebody at the other end 
 was hurt more than myself. 
 
INKLINGS. 231 
 
 When you come to see me, do bring all the news 
 you can. Tell, first of all, who has been murdered, 
 and all the particulars of the transaction ; and next, 
 all the fights that have occurred for several weeks, 
 and if any man has abused his wife, we will give 
 him a sound thrashing, over a cup of coffee. If there 
 have been any fires, do tell how they happened and 
 all about them, and be sure not to forget any confi- 
 dential communication degrading the character of 
 any of your neighbors ; you can rely upon me with 
 perfect safety. If any one has joined the church re- 
 cently, you will please watch him in church until 
 he sneezes, notice particularly his looks and the dea- 
 con's, and observe whether the preacher turns his eye 
 in that direction. 
 
 There are so many things to write about, that I 
 scarcely know where to stop ; and after all, a letter 
 is a poor substitute for two or three hours' conver- 
 sation with an old friend. You have my sincere 
 thanks for your kind attentions formerly, and with 
 the hope that a foundation has been laid for a per- 
 manent friendship, permit me, in conclusion, with 
 the desire that your own good sense will correct in 
 a friendly way, all the mistakes of this epistle, to 
 subscribe myself, 
 
 Respectfully yours, S. D. P. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN EVENING MEDITATION. 
 
 We have a Father kind, above, 
 Who rules the wint'r y storm, 
 
 And makes the flowers of his love 
 Assume a pleasing form. 
 
 The Bible, on his children here, 
 
 In mercy he bestows, 
 Which may dispel each gloomy fear, 
 
 When fierce the tempest blows. 
 
 The lamp which sheds no flickering light, 
 
 On life's bewildered way ; 
 The polar star to cheer our sight, 
 
 While here on earth we stay. 
 
INKLINGS. 233 
 
 Then to our Father we will turn, 
 
 In dark or joyful hour, 
 While in our hearts his love does burn, 
 
 And we confess his power. 
 
 If, from his precepts wise, we stray, 
 
 In dark and evil hour, 
 "We have an Advocate who may 
 
 Remove the clouds which lower. 
 
 I KXEW HER BY HER GENTLE AIR. 
 
 I knew her by her gentle air, 
 
 Her modest look and lovely form ; 
 
 Lovely among a thousand fair, 
 
 Too frail for life's cold, wint'ry storm. 
 
 Her eye was eloquent with love 
 
 And hope, fresh as the rising day ; 
 
 Her bosom, like fair clouds above, 
 
 Kissed by the sun's departing ray. 
 
234 INKLINGS. 
 
 Time passed, and in that eye a flame 
 
 Was burning with a fair, clear light ; 
 Within that breast, no more the same, 
 
 Passion had made a scathing blight. 
 
 The earth was beautiful no more. 
 
 No freshness from its verdure sprung ; 
 
 Her heart was troubled oft and sore, 
 
 For him round whom her hopes now clung. 
 
 And as her hopes fled, one by one, 
 
 She still pursued till far from sight ; 
 
 And then, sad, weary and alone, 
 
 She sought to hide her heart's sad blight. 
 
 No more will sunshine light a smile, 
 No more for her will flowers bloom, 
 
 Unless the sunshine may beguile 
 
 A smile from flowers round her tomb. 
 
INKLINGS 235 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY AT SCHOOL. 
 
 Do not be mad, and in a huff 
 
 Take a large pinch of Scottish snm% 
 
 Because for once I have turned ranter, 
 
 Mounted Pegasus on a canter, 
 
 To let you know without commotion, 
 
 My early and sincere devotion 
 
 To scribbling rhyme, and all that thing 
 
 Which greenest poets love to sing. 
 
 Perhaps you think your Pa would say, 
 
 That he' should know without delay, 
 
 Of this, and every kindred kind 
 
 Of thing that's running in your mind. 
 
 Be quiet now, he does not care 
 
 A single straw, a single hair, 
 
 Although I have not asked, you know, 
 
 If this or that be so and so. — 
 
 Among the seventy, more or less, 
 
 Of damsel faces which may bless 
 
 The learning's seat where you are staying, 
 
 "What are they all ? A Christian, praying 
 
 Class, who, with keen delight may look 
 
 On study and the musty book ? 
 
 Some may be sick and melancholic, 
 
 Some, full of fun, inclined to frolic ; 
 
236 INKLINGS. 
 
 And sure, among so many boys. 
 The girls may find some pretty toys. 
 With which they may amuse, I ween, 
 The study hours, and not be seen.— 
 Commend me to the quaker gir], 
 Although she may not dance and whirl 
 In fashion's giddy, reckless maze, 
 For one of Nature's waifs and strays. 
 I might say more, but then you know, 
 I saw her but an hour or so. — 
 How fares the French ? Can you talk now, 
 And write in French, a maiden's vow ; 
 Discourse right on without a blunder, 
 And without making Yankee thunder ? 
 Some say, that mending coats and hose, 
 As every Christian person knows, 
 Is better far than all the prattle, 
 Which, from the mouth of Miss, may rattle. 
 But you will take the quiet way, 
 Which far between extremes may lay, 
 Leave his own notions to the fool, 
 And mend your hose when out of school. — 
 Were you returned from school once more, 
 To the green bank of life's gay shore, 
 Where you have roamed in days of yore, 
 Gayly I would, the dipping oar, 
 Place in your hand, and tell you well 
 To shun the current's mighty spell, 
 
INKLINGS. 237 
 
 Which, all unseen, may work a change. 
 Greater far than the wind's wide range. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 Since from the side of Adam, came 
 The rib which formed a glorious dame, 
 
 The mother of our race ; 
 Men have been paired like ducks and geese, 
 Some choosing with a love of peace, 
 
 And some, a smiling face. 
 
 You may not think me all unkind, 
 When for a gentle, constant mind, 
 
 Love and sweetness blending, 
 This valentine to you is sent ; 
 No. unkind cut, for you is meant, 
 
 And no vile contending. 
 
 Yet all must very plainly see, 
 To walk life's way, two must agree 
 And have a constant mind } 
 IV 
 
238 INKLINGS. 
 
 So send me. by return of mail, 
 Your yea or nay, and do not fail 
 To think me well inclined. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEH AFTER READING CAMPBELL'S PLEASURES OP HOPE, AND 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 God bless the Poet's noble soul, 
 
 From whose great Harp such numbers roll, 
 
 As spread the truth from pole to pole, 
 
 And wake the soul to gladness ! 
 Those numbers sweet, now gently fall, 
 Now move the heart, and then in thrall 
 They bind the passions, one and all, 
 
 "With chords of thrilling sadness. 
 
 Hail to the bard whose mind austere 
 Can bring wild Fancy to the sphere, 
 "Where, joined with Hope, and without fear, 
 
 She rambles on with pleasure ! 
 Whose heart can mingle with the rose, 
 And swell the tempest when it blows 
 A wrathful deluge on the foes ; 
 
 Hail the immortal treasure ! 
 
INKLINGS. 239 
 
 Long be such names as Campbell's known. 
 When kings who sit upon the throne. 
 Have ceased to hear the widow's groan. 
 
 And hapless orphan's wailing ! 
 His numbers are almost divine, 
 The heart so well he does define, 
 To virtue's side so strong incline, 
 
 That sure he has no failing. 
 
 WE ARE PEEPERS ALL ! 
 
 From childhood to extreme old age, 
 From dulness to the greatest sage, 
 From summer time to winter rage, 
 
 Over this great ball, 
 Through all its dark and vast expanse, 
 Now lighted with a meteor glance, 
 Then sinking from the wild entrance, 
 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
 The toddling child that picks the berry, 
 And sings in tones most sweet and merry, 
 With face which would defy Daguerre, 
 Down behind the wall, 
 
240 INKLINGS. 
 
 Looks upward to the careless throng 
 That in the road now rolls along, 
 And still it prattles on its song \ 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
 The student with an austere look 
 
 Of wisdom drawn from some new book, 
 
 Or tongue that with its accents shook 
 
 Some great, ancient hall, 
 Looks backward through the maze of years, 
 And forward with his doubts and fears, 
 Which sometimes start the trickling tears ; 
 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
 For office one may take a peep 
 
 At things that look both dark and steep. 
 
 And in hot water take a leap, 
 
 Or insure a fall ; 
 Then curse his stars in accents wild, 
 Declare he ne'er was Fortune's child, 
 His disposition was so mild ; 
 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
 The maiden 'neath the bending tree, 
 Looks on her lover with a glee, 
 That makes all baser passions flee, 
 Or remain in thrall \ 
 
INKLINGS. 241 
 
 Peeps on the future with a joy 
 Which nothing earthly can alloy, 
 Except fear for her darling boy ; 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
 The preacher whom we all revere 
 For manners mild and yet severe, 
 And almost worship him with fear, 
 
 All, both great and small. 
 Look upward to a heaven above, 
 See through his eye the holy dove 
 Descending on its wings of love ; 
 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
 Where'er we go, where'er we stray, 
 If chance has, for a single day, 
 Made in our plans some great delay, 
 
 By a morning call, 
 Or in a fit of painful gout, 
 Or when at fashion's ball we flout, 
 Till Death has squeezed our peepers out. 
 
 We are peepers all ! 
 
242 INKLINGS. 
 
 LETTER TO UNCLE SAM. 
 
 My Dear Uncle Sam: — 
 
 You have been expecting to receive a 
 reply to your last letter, and here it comes. You 
 may be a little surprised to see it printed, and think it 
 is not intended for you, but it is ; and you need not 
 be alarmed about any private, family matters, for this 
 will be a general, rambling epistle, so that strangers 
 to us will think that it is a fiction, while you will 
 know the contrary. As you like a good, long letter, 
 without any firstly, secondly, and all that, you shall 
 have this, without any sour, theological questions 
 about that other world, whether it be a dreamless 
 sleep, or a sleepless dream. The present is all we 
 have, and I hope that present will never be worse 
 employed, than in writing to an old friend. You 
 know Uncle Sam that lives at Washington ; it may 
 be, he will think this is intended for him, and if he 
 should send me a kind reply, as it is natural for me 
 to be grateful for favors, it would be preserved as a 
 memento of the august, old gentleman's condescen- 
 sion. The half-century question has been discussed 
 in all the papers here ; you have probably seen 
 something similar, and as that question has worn out 
 the quills of a whole flock of geese, you will permit 
 me to nib my pen once on that point. Is the year 
 
INKLINGS. 243 
 
 1850, the last year of the first half, or the first year of 
 the last half? That is the question. Now, as it 
 was the year one, all the way through that year un- 
 til the year two commenced, so it will be fifty, all the 
 way through the year fifty until fifty-one commen- 
 ces ; and as fifty is one half of one hundred, the first 
 day of fifty-one, must be the first ^iay of the last half 
 of the century. Is not this an explanation of the 
 question? 
 
 You have never been told how the boys and girls 
 slide on the river, have you? Well, you shall know 
 how it was done when I was in the West. The riv- 
 er was about sixty feet wide, and the boys brought a 
 post, and cutting a hole through the ice, planted it 
 firmly in the center of the stream, leaving it four feet 
 above the surface of the ice, and driving a pin into 
 the upper end. Then a pole thirty-five feet long was 
 brought, and after making an auger hole five feet 
 from the large end, it was placed on the post, and a 
 hand sleigh fastened to the other extremity. You 
 must see by this time, the modus operandi. One is 
 placed upon the sleigh, which sweeps both shores in a 
 circle swifter than the wild deer, while three or four 
 walk slowly around the post, gently pushing against 
 the pole. This is fine sport for them, but you must 
 be careful, young sovereigns, and not let the sleigh 
 get away from the pole, for if it should, you may 
 crack your crowns ! Once a young lady let go to 
 get a better hold, and off she went down the river 
 like a shooting star, about ten rods, till she came to a 
 
244 INKLINGS. 
 
 break in the ice, and slipped in, feet first, so quick 
 that I guess the fish wriggled off in a hurry. The 
 water was not very deep, and she waded ashore be- 
 fore any one could recover from the first surprise. 
 
 Things here remain in statu quo. We have storms 
 and sunshine, about the usual quantity of fogs and 
 clouds, and some fair weather, when shadows can 
 only be seen as you turn from the sun or remove to 
 the shade. For my part, give me the south side of 
 the fence when the sun shines, and as for storms, the 
 most agreeable shower is when it rains sugar plums. 
 When spring returns again, I intend to chase the first 
 butterfly that comes along. Speaking of butterflies 
 reminds me of school-boy days long since passed 
 away, when we would gather around a score of little, 
 yellow wings, and watch them as they changed com- 
 panions, fluttering around in groups, and then float- 
 ing away to extract honey from a thistle flower. 
 Once we found a large one with various colors, and 
 after a long chase we caught it in a hat, and one of 
 us having a handkerchief with which the hat was 
 covered, we alternately took a peep with as much 
 pleasure as large boys look through glasses at pic- 
 tures of cities. One discovered only a variety of 
 beautiful colors ; another discovered the letter W in 
 black on the wings, and said it meant that there 
 would be war very soon ; and a little girl saw a fan, 
 which, she said, the butterfly used without doubt 
 when it was warm. 
 
 Now we will turn to a little, useful knowledge, 
 
INKLINGS. 245 
 
 which is always desired by those who possess a cul- 
 tivated taste, and probably is more desired by no one 
 than by him who has the most of it. Like the miser 
 — no, I will not compare him with the miser ; like 
 the fledged tenant of the air, which at first soars but 
 a short distance from the place of incubation, but em- 
 boldened by the effort, afterwards soars upward till 
 it is lost in the clouds above, and finally mounts be- 
 yond the region of storms, and enjoys a serenity of 
 atmosphere, denied to those of less strength and cour- 
 age. But to return to the subject of useful knowl- 
 edge ; it is so well appreciated, that I trust an excuse 
 will not be necessary for writing a short description of 
 an ingenious and useful discovery, which I saw in a 
 neighboring village, through the politeness of a friend 
 there. The invention to which I refer, is a steam en- 
 gine, constructed entirely different from any other 
 which has been made. The steam is produced by 
 boilers, and conducted from them by a tube into a 
 horizontal cylinder, hollow at the end. The steam 
 passes from the cylinder into two arms, projecting 
 from opposite sides of the cylinder, with orifices near 
 the ends, on opposite sides of the arms. The steam 
 rushing from the orifices produces the motion, and 
 the arms are cased in iron, from which a tube con- 
 ducts the steam again to the boilers. This was one 
 of the ingenious constructions of. "William Avery, 
 whose early death, all friends of improvement must 
 lament. 
 
246 INKLIx\fSS. 
 
 You are no quid nunc, otherwise I might tell you 
 how a little girl came along home from school the 
 other night with a bare hand, for she had lost her mit- 
 ten in the confusion of play ; and how one man at 
 town meeting proposed to bet ten dollars, that he 
 could leap over six horses. Some of our Yankees 
 are full of ginger and pepper, and all that, and look 
 so much like an old spice-bag, that we can scarcely 
 guess what is inside. A great many years ago, when 
 the country was new, one of them had a rough hold 
 with a wild bear ; but that was a little too much, 
 even for a Yankee. Going fifty miles to mill, is what 
 has been done here, though not quite so recently as 
 among you at the West. Your embryo villages, 
 that cut flourishes on paper, will soon be the rivals of 
 those, where now the story of the wild-deer chase, 
 the hunter's lodge, and the Indian's wigwam, are pre- 
 served among well authenticated records of the past, 
 to be used like the prudent house- wife's other pre- 
 serves, mostly for company. I suppose there are some 
 wild turkeys where you are now ; not on your farm, 
 but within a few miles. There were many in your 
 State a few years ago, and I will tell you how they 
 were sometimes caught. A little pen of round poles 
 was made in a suitable place, with a strong, flat roof. 
 On one side, the earth was taken away and the bot- 
 tom pole cut nearly off on the under side, and corn, 
 or something that turkeys eat, was thrown into the 
 pen, about the hole and for some distance around. 
 
INKLINGS. 247 
 
 The turkeys would find their way into the pen and 
 remain prisoners. 
 
 The subject of education has received a share of 
 public attention in the West, and New York is rival- 
 ing New England in laudable efforts. My greatest, 
 personal interest is in the public libraries. There are 
 libraries in every school district, containing useful in- 
 formation, free for all the inhabitants, and it is my 
 delight to consult these silent, friendly counselors. 
 The works are selected by the trustees of the district, 
 and of course there may be some bad selections ; but 
 the libraries are generally composed of useful books. 
 We have in our library, ancient and modern history, 
 religious and moral works, scientific and philosophi- 
 cal books, lectures for young men, and hints for young 
 ladies. The love and madness of Tasso, is the only 
 poetical work which our library can boast. That the 
 trustees think of frightening the juveniles from wri- 
 ting poetry, by this account of an unfortunate bard, 
 which comes to us wrapt in so much mystery and 
 doubt, as to leave little room for any thing except con- 
 jecture, is more than can be said positively ; but their 
 actions squint that way. Are not Bryant, Halleck, 
 Whittier, Longfellow, Sigourney, and several others, 
 worthy a place with Cooper's Naval History? They 
 have decided here against the poets, but there is a 
 higher tribunal which may reverse the decision. I 
 can remember the time when it was said, we had no 
 gifted genius who could remove the veil from Nature's 
 face and disclose her peerless beauty, throw a halo 
 
248 INKLINGS. 
 
 around the shadows of the past, or in the midnight 
 darkness of the future, catch glorious glimpses, like 
 Shakspeare, Milton, and Barns. But what then was 
 future, has demonstrated that the spark was in the 
 flint, and collison has kindled a flame which burns 
 American incense on the heart's altar of a free peo- 
 ple. 
 
 •■ Yesterday being Sunday. I listened to a revival 
 preacher. His theme was sectarianism and he dis- 
 played some wit, some sarcasm, and an abundance 
 of the principle which he condemned. He manifest- 
 ed too much of the pleader, for a good judge, and too 
 little charity, for that benevolence which is said to 
 characterize Christianity. I speak only of my own 
 impressions, without pretending to any authority for 
 judging him, and at the same time disclaiming for 
 him or any other man, the right of judging unchari- 
 tably, those who may happen to differ with him about 
 the standard of orthodoxy. The sectarian may wor- 
 ship a divinity which appears to him to preside like 
 a great high-priest over the Church to which he be- 
 longs, and view his own pulpit orator as a vicegerent 
 fully authorized to fulminate his anathemas against 
 all other sects, and all the world, except the precious 
 few of his own Church; but is not this degrading the 
 wise Ruler of the universe to a petty tyrant, whom, 
 Roman virtue, with all its mixture of heathen my- 
 thology, would not endure ? That Being who crea- 
 ted and governs all things, I do not say, " the moral 
 Governor of the universe," fearing you might think 
 
INKLINGS. 249 
 
 the term restrictive, but the absolute Ruler of all 
 things, governing by his laws and providences, all 
 living as well as inanimate things, can not be so de- 
 graded as to preside over particular Churches and 
 watch with an eager eye their prosperity, while the 
 world at large is viewed with indifference. " There's 
 a Divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them as 
 we will." It is generally conceded, that the day of 
 miracles has passed, and consequently, no man can 
 claim a direct revelation from heaven. Man's own 
 reason, assisted by what has been revealed, and an 
 observance of the laws and operations of nature, 
 must be the guide to all his conclusions ; and be- 
 cause a man does not arrive at the same conclusion 
 with his neighbor, is no positive argument, that either 
 of them is right or wrong. We can see but a little 
 way, and looking through microscopes, causes ob- 
 jects to appear too large, while there is another kind 
 of glasses which makes them appear too small, and 
 furthermore, " all looks yellow to the jaundiced eye." 
 If any man could reasonably hope to destroy secta- 
 rianism by a great effort, he should be applauded for 
 the noble design ; but as things are at present, throw- 
 ing ridicule and obloquy upon the subject, is too 
 much like opening old wounds with slivers, instead 
 of spreading over them a plaster of charity. To con- 
 clude my remarks upon this subject, I believe with 
 Burns, 
 
 " The heart, benevolent and kind, 
 The most resembles God." 
 
 Respectfully yours, S. D. P. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TO A DESPONDING FRIEND. 
 
 The cheering sunlight shines on all around, 
 On cottage roof and on the splendid dome, 
 
 Gives beauty to the rose which may be found 
 Beside the humble home. 
 
 Heaven's free breezes blow on all the earth, 
 On mountain top and in the lowly vale, 
 
 Fanning the embers on the lonely hearth 
 And nourishing the frail. 
 
 The gentle dew which falls at silent night, 
 On sturdy oak and the withered flower, 
 
 Gives to the poet's vision fancy's might, 
 In eve's lonely bower. 
 
INKLINGS. 251 
 
 The rill that clashes from the mountain height 
 And forms a snow wreath of the circling spray, 
 
 Decking the bird with beauty in its flight, 
 Is it ncc mine, I pray ? 
 
 The stars that gMtter in the concave blue, 
 
 When Night has placed her sentinels on high, 
 
 Look down upon the world and see the true, 
 When ghastly death is nigh. 
 
 Then why repine at fortune's humble lot, 
 
 Because the rich in luxury may roll ? 
 Is this great maxim, now so soon forgot, 
 
 The worth is in the soul ? 
 
 Fortune may frown, and after that may smile, 
 
 She is a fickle dame, as all may tell ; 
 Then keep in purity the soul from guile, 
 
 And act your own part well. 
 
 Those friends, who, beneath the weeping willows, 
 Forgetful of the world's discordant jars, 
 
 To you seem sleeping, have crossed the billows, 
 And sing among the stars. 
 
 A few short years, and life's thread will sever, 
 And we shall bid a long, a last adieu. 
 
252 INKLINGS. 
 
 To the world and all its scenes forever ; 
 Around the couch a few. 
 
 iC Congenial spirits part to meet again ; M 
 
 Then with one friend to take the parting sigh, 
 
 Let the winds blow against your bark in vain ; 
 We'll hope to meet on high. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 In the west I have seen the bright, evening star, 
 When twilight grew dim in the distance afar, 
 And Night swiftly rolled o'er the earth in her car — 
 In the west I have seen the bright, evening star. 
 
 Sweet birds I have heard in the green, leafy bower, 
 Gay chanting their lay in the fresh, April shower, 
 With no thought of care and no wish for more power- 
 Sweet birds I have heard in the green, leafy bower. 
 
 Far down in the dell, I have seen the wild rose, 
 Which nature protects from the rude wind that blows, 
 
INKLINGS. 253 
 
 Exhaling its sweets to the stream which there flows — 
 Far down in the dell, I have seen the wild rose. 
 
 The pearl I hare seen, from the bed of the ocean, 
 From valleys most fair, 'neath the wild waves commotion, 
 The pearl which may mingle our thoughts with emotion — 
 The pearl I have seen, from the bed of the ocean. 
 
 I have seen the lambs play on the green, dewy lawn, 
 When from slumber they roused with the first blushing dawn, 
 And to nature my heart was instinctively drawn — 
 I have seen the lambs play on the green, dewy lawn. 
 
 THE AMERICAN FLAG. 
 
 My country's Flag ! my country's Flag ! 
 
 With Eagle, Stripes and Stars ; 
 Where red and white, and blue unite, 
 
 Our welfare never mars ! 
 The stars and blue of heaven's hue, 
 
 Our thoughts must ratse on high ; 
 12 
 
254 INKLINGS. 
 
 The white and red their language spread, 
 
 "Where friends or foemen sigh. 
 The bird of Jove on high shall rove. 
 
 And cleave the liquid air ; 
 Then downward stoop in battle's swoop. 
 
 And take the trophies fair. 
 The stripes on foe we will bestow,, 
 
 Till battle's din is past 
 And peace all fair shall give a share 
 
 To fortune which may last. 
 
 My country's Flag ! my country's Flag I 
 
 Long may thy banner wave, 
 In breezes free, on land and sea, 
 
 The emblem of the brave ! 
 "While Washington, that noble son 
 
 Of Freedom, shall remain 
 Above, to see what we may be, 
 
 keep it from all stain ! 
 That Eoman bird, as we have heard. 
 
 Lies drooping in the dust, 
 Where sculpture pride, on every side, 
 
 Has made some antique bust. 
 Perhaps a bust, so near the dust, 
 
 May, upward with its hand. 
 Point to the place where ends the race ; 
 
 The spirit, spirit land I 
 
INKLINGS. 255 
 
 My country's Flag ! my country's Flag ! 
 
 No wayward course be thine ; 
 No comet's flight^ to blaze with light 
 
 And then no more to shine ! 
 But when fierce Mars shall cloud the stars 
 
 Which on thy folds may gleam. 
 May peace return, and once more burn, 
 
 The stars with milder beam ! 
 And may the poor, if Greek or Moor, 
 
 "Who feels the tyrant's rod, 
 Bless, with his eyes turned to the skies, 
 
 This Messenger of God ! 
 "Westward the star is seen from far, 
 
 Which lights our onward way ; 
 Roll on the time, when every clime 
 
 Shall bless a peaceful sway ! 
 
 THE THIRTY-FIRST CONGRESS. 
 
 Now in the reign of honest Zack, 
 Who never has been called a quack, 
 In surgery, at least j 
 
256 INKLINGS. 
 
 Congress men have made such clatter, 
 Something sure must be the matter, 
 More than a common feast. 
 
 The laurels won on Mexic plain. 
 Among the vanquished and the slain. 
 
 Are green upon his brow ; 
 Hard earned, dear bought, and yet we know, 
 A little darker than the snow, 
 
 The wreath to which we bow. 
 
 They say, he is inclined to peace, 
 Since he obtained an honest lease 
 
 Of that great, splendid house ; 
 Smokes a cigar, and tells them all, 
 That he would leave the spacious hall, 
 
 As quiet as a mouse. 
 
 But Congress men have a debate, 
 About great matters of the State, 
 
 And this you clearly see ; 
 It is most difficult to say, 
 Who may be right, and who shall say, 
 
 "When doctors disagree ? 
 
 Some come there from the Southern plain, 
 Where smiling plenty loves to reign, 
 All free from common care; 
 
INKLINGS. 257 
 
 Where the Palmetto fair is seen, 
 And nature, graced with living green, 
 Invitingly looks fair. 
 
 The Lone Star sends a host in one, 
 Her patriot father and her son, 
 
 From gardens of the free 5 
 "Where prairie flowers scent the gale 
 With sweetest fragrance to inhale, 
 
 There freemen love to be. 
 
 That mighty river of the West, 
 Sends from its valley of the best, 
 
 Without a thought of fear, 
 Who counsel from an honest heart, 
 With thoughts profound which they impart 
 
 To all who wish to hear. 
 
 And from the bleak, New-England hills, 
 Where late the music of the rills 
 
 Is heard in silver chime, 
 Comes Daniel, who, with thunder tone. 
 Can almost move to hollow groan, 
 
 The men of olden time. 
 
 From New- York and the Keystone State, 
 Wise heads, strong hearts do congregate, 
 And to the public weal, 
 
258 INKLINGS. 
 
 Give their attention, each in turn, 
 "While flow from lips those words that burn. 
 Which wise men only feel. 
 
 Now comes the question of the slave, 
 Who first was brought here by some knave, 
 
 When we were very young ; 
 Britain, with favor for the strong. 
 Turned from the weak and left the wrong, 
 
 To which we since have clung. 
 
 Where in the South that curse still clings, 
 Its blighting poison round them flings, 
 
 To them it must belong, 
 To free the captive from his chains, 
 To let him sing in Freedom's strains, 
 
 And melody of song. 
 
 About those lands far to the west, 
 
 Which human footsteps scarce have pressed, 
 
 All unreclaimed and free. 
 Each freeman has a right to speak, 
 Although he may be poor and weak, 
 
 What he may think and see. 
 
 Where slavery yet has never been, 
 Where land has not been cursed with sin 
 
INKLINGS. 259 
 
 So odious and dire, 
 There let the beacon blaze on high, 
 And raise its incense to the sky, 
 
 From Freedom's holy fire. 
 
 Freedom ! thou art ever dear, 
 To human hearts both far and near, 
 
 For rich and poor, for all, 
 Thy presence. has a cheering smile 
 Which human hearts may well beguile, 
 
 All oyer this great ball ! 
 
 Too long has man, too long has man, 
 
 "With Freedom's banner in his van. 
 Held captive in his rear, 
 
 His brother man with tyrant might, 
 
 Deprived of Freedom's holy right, 
 
 With chains and slavish fear ! 
 
 thou ! omnipotent above, 
 Known by the holy name of Love, 
 
 Grant this my last request : 
 To live on earth in Freedom's bower, 
 To die at last with Freedom's power 
 
 All warm within my breast ! 
 
 And if to others thou wouldst give 
 A greater blessing than to live. 
 
260 INKLINGS. 
 
 My heart now speaks its truth ; 
 Give them on earth free air to breathe, 
 Around their temples Freedom wreathe, 
 
 And then immortal youth ! 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Hear me, Love ! hear me. Love ! while from the heart I bring 
 Songs of love, songs of love, which round the heart do cling ; 
 Kemove me from the twilight and bear me on jour wing, 
 Take away the poison shaft, and from the shaft the sting. 
 
 Thou art kind ! thou art kind ! and more than this I knew, 
 Thou didst love, thou didst love, so fervently and true! 
 And had that pure love been shared by many or by few, 
 To me that gentle kindness had not been shown by you. 
 
 I am sad ! I am sad ! and weary is my year, 
 
 All around, all around, my sky is gloomy here, 
 
 And timid I have become with undefined fear \ 
 
 surely it was not thus, when you, my Love, were near ! 
 
INKLINGS. 261 
 
 Souls may feel, souls may feel, the mildew with its blight, 
 Far away, far away, may fry the vision bright, 
 Which has come to bless them, and then far remove from sight, 
 And leave them cold and cheerless as bleak November's night. 
 
 "We must meet ! we must meet ! we can not part forever ; 
 Parted now, parted now, it will not be thus ever \ 
 The golden cord which binds us, no rude hand can sever, 
 Where sighs are never heard, and friends are parted never ! 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 Resting like an infant sleeping, 
 
 As thou never hadst known weeping, 
 
 And angels were vigils keeping, 
 
 With sweetest songs for thee ; 
 All quiet is thy placid brow, 
 Thy breathing like a lover's vow, 
 Soft whispered with a modest bow. 
 
 Thou quiet, gentle Sea ! 
 
 Thou Zephyr, quiet now remain, 
 Thou Notus of the southern plain, 
 12* 
 
262 INKLINGS. 
 
 And Eurus of the eastern reign. 
 
 Be quiet, quiet ye ! 
 "While Ocean sleeps with gentle rest. 
 And peaceful is his noble breast, 
 As patriarch with wisdom blest, 
 
 The placid-smiling Sea ! 
 
 He rouses now, and shakes his locks, 
 Dashes with fury on the rocks, 
 While human might he proudly mocks, 
 
 And bounds along with glee ; 
 Then with the whirlwind wildly plays, 
 Scorns to forgive us our delays, 
 For death and fury only prays, 
 
 Eelentless, haughty Sea ! 
 
 Down in thy caverns, far fronf air, 
 Are treasures rich and treasures fair, 
 But who would tempt thee in thy lair, 
 
 Or wish to visit thee. 
 Where wrecks are strewed around thy doors, 
 And human bones are on thy shores, 
 And wrathful tempest howls and roars. 
 
 Thou monster, monster Sea ! 
 
 Is it a hoarse and hollow groan, 
 Is it with dirge you now bemoan, 
 
INKLINGS. 263 
 
 And is that requiem a loan, 
 
 In kindness sent to me ? 
 To teach me some desponding strain. 
 How many hopes are all in vain, 
 And sink beneath the stormy main, 
 
 Thou hoarse, resounding Sea I 
 
 Full many ships from port have sailed, 
 When summer winds have almost failed, 
 "Whose sturdy hearts have often quailed 
 
 With lowly bended knee ; 
 As onward borne on crested wave, 
 To coward heart is changed the brave ; 
 When far from land, who then can save ? 
 
 Thou false and fickle Sea ! 
 
 It must be that thou dost repent, 
 Thy rugged breast must now lament, 
 That wailing voice is surely sent 
 
 To spirits of the free, 
 Whose forms are wasting in decay, 
 To monsters may have been a prey, 
 In thy deep bosom, far from day ; 
 
 Thou wailing, wailing Sea ! 
 
 "With all thy faults I love thee still, 5 ' 
 For thou hast a quiescent will, 
 
264 INKLINGS. 
 
 To sing the grand bass for the rill, 
 
 Down by the leafy tree. 
 That voice is heard on Britain's shore, 
 And on our coast forever more, 
 With music in its sounding roar, 
 The ever sounding Sea ! 
 
 TO A LADY WHO ADVERTISED FOR A HUSBAND. 
 
 The other day, when all was peace, 
 
 And sunshine seemed to hold a lease 
 
 Of fortune for a pleasant day, 
 
 And birds were trilling their sweet lay, — 
 
 Returning home to take my tea, 
 
 As busy as a honey bee, 
 
 With thoughts of future good arrayed 
 
 In pleasing change of sun and shade, — 
 
 While in this pleasant frame of mind, 
 
 To kindness all my thoughts inclined, 
 
 The Tribune spoke of joy, of bliss, 
 
 And matrimony's sweetest kiss, 
 
 All offered in a quiet way. 
 
 To -certain men who might say, yea. 
 
INKLINGS. 265 
 
 You say, that forty is your age, 
 
 "Which witless dandies might enrage ; 
 
 But as for nie, I do declare, 
 
 That if your brow is smooth and fair, 
 
 If time has left his footprints there 
 
 With gentle traces of his care, 
 
 And age with wisdom is combined, 
 
 To soothe life's cares you are inclined, 
 
 (A grand design in Wisdom's plan, 
 
 To lengthen out life's feeble span,) 
 
 Perhaps we may go to the altar, 
 
 And noosed in matrimony's halter, 
 
 Pass on, and think of gold the chain, 
 
 Which makes but one, the honest twain. 
 
 Now, with my modesty aside, 
 
 To speak with all becoming pride. 
 
 Of my own self. To my age, you 
 
 Can not object, if yours be true ; 
 
 And, now and then, in peaceful brooks, 
 
 I take a peep to see my looks ; 
 
 And what they say, you sure shall know, 
 
 Without a gloss or point of show. 
 
 " You well might pass on through a crowd. 
 
 Without a hiss or plaudit loud ; 
 
 And yet the quick observer spy 
 
 The passions playing in the eye, 
 
 Which never can quite all conceal, 
 
 What nature taught them to reveal. 
 
 In plain and honest garb, you seem 
 
266 INKLINGS. 
 
 No one of whom the poets dream. 
 An honest man, with goodly store 
 Of mental wealth, and nothing more." 
 I never persecute your sex, 
 
 Unless it be with kindness \ 
 Their passions never try to yex, 
 
 To folly I am blindness. 
 Ask all my neighbors, they can tell, 
 How true, and fervently, and well 
 I love. Some one of them might say. 
 That in my youth I was too gay ; 
 The folly, sure you would not chide, 
 Which leans so far to virtue's side. 
 Please send to me without delay, 
 Some token for this first essay ; 
 Some word in pity, kindness given, 
 To cheer the lonely to his heaven. 
 
 THE CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 One day while musing, sad and weary, 
 On human life with all its scenes, 
 While life seemed like a desert dreary, 
 
L\KLINGS. 267 
 
 And flowers few the wanderer gleans ; 
 The beech-tree spread around its shade 
 Upon the fresh, the blooming earth, 
 The fleecy cloud its journey made, 
 The quiet was too deep for mirih. 
 
 The knell was heard, the solemn bell, 
 
 Informing of time's decay ; 
 Heard ye not the slow, solemn knell, 
 
 Informing of time's decay ; 
 Heard ye not the slow music swell, 
 
 In the far distance away 7 
 
 The weepers stand around the bier, 
 
 Forgetful of to-morrow \ 
 The worst is past, they cannot fear ; 
 
 "Who can relieve their sorrow ? 
 
 While life remained, there still was hope, 
 
 But now that hope has vanished ; 
 In darkness now their way they grope, 
 
 Sorrow no more is banished. 
 
 "When dust to dust the last time falls, 
 
 The dank sod smoothly planted, 
 An icy coldness round me crawls ; 
 
 Pardon to all is granted. 
 
268 INKLINGS. i 
 
 The wound which death inflicts on friends, 
 Time may, perhaps, heal over ; 
 
 But then the scar its signet lends. 
 To mark for death the rover. 
 
 Slow measures now the solemn bell, 
 The steps of men departing ; 
 
 The stone is placed on sorrow's well, 
 Wisdom to all imparting. 
 
 It is not meet to think of crime, 
 
 Or past offences given ; 
 A brother man has lived his time, 
 
 Can he not be forgiven 7 
 
 Our common nature was his own, 
 Perhaps by habits altered ; 
 
 But he is left now, cold and lone, 
 The weary tongue has faltered. 
 
 We will draw near his resting place, 
 With our sickly hopes deferred, 
 
 And write with serious, tearful face, 
 Love and charity preferred. 
 
INKLINGS. 269 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 Life's fitful fever now is past, 
 Its hopes and fears departed ; 
 
 Think not its lesson here, the last 
 Which Wisdom has imparted, 
 
 Learn how to live, and then you will 
 
 Disarm the king of terror ; 
 The heart from love's deep fountain fill, 
 
 With charity for error, 
 
 Do not forget your brother man, 
 Who slowly is progressing ; 
 
 Cheer him as often as you can, 
 And heaven will grant a blessing, 
 
 A GRACE. 
 
 Xow 3 to our Father kind, above 3 
 We raise a grateful voice. 
 
270 INKLINGS. 
 
 For every token of his love 
 
 And blessing of his choice ; 
 And always to revere his name, 
 
 Who does for all provide. 
 Still humbly to confess the same, 
 
 Let weal or woe betide, 
 And live in harmony divine. 
 
 With all his creatures here ; 
 To this may every heart incline, 
 
 While in his presence near. 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 The morning sun was bright ard gay, 
 All sparkling was the living ray 
 Which danced along life's early way, 
 
 In its first view ; 
 On downy pinions was the flight 
 Of time, through regions fair and bright, 
 Which had not seen a wasting blight, 
 
 When life was new. 
 
INKLINGS. 271 
 
 Sweet was the air in life's green bower, 
 Dear was the love which had the power 
 To give new fragrance to the flower, 
 
 And life was true ; 
 Its magic then was without art. 
 And pleasure sweet, it did impart, 
 As rapture flashed from heart to heart. 
 
 When life was new. 
 
 No motto shall my mind require, 
 To guard the feelings which inspire 
 My heart with most devout desire, 
 
 To cherish you, 
 "Who waded with me in the brook, 
 And cringed beneath the master's look. 
 Because our lessons we forsook, 
 
 "When life was new. 
 
 And you, who, in the leafy grove. 
 With rosy morning loved to rove, 
 And with the sapling often strove. 
 
 Which thrifty grew, 
 A few rods from the school-house door, 
 Where Miss had sprinkled well the floor, 
 And told us to do so no more, 
 
 When life was new. 
 
272 INKLINGS. 
 
 Then we did read of wicked Jack, 
 "Who put poor robin on the rack, 
 And caught the whip on his own back, 
 
 "Which we all knew, 
 We must elude with all our might, 
 Because he was a naughty wight, 
 And torture gave him rich delight. 
 
 When life was new. 
 
 Then we were on a summer sea. 
 Were wafted on with breezes free. 
 And life was fair as it could be, 
 
 A happy crew, 
 With master kind to trim the sail 
 And guide us safely through the gale, 
 And never did his kindness fail, 
 
 When life was new. 
 
 If darkening clouds were ever seen 
 To throw their shadows on the green, 
 They seemed a momentary screen 
 
 From heaven's blue, 
 Which brighter looked when they had passed ; 
 Few were the clouds which overcast 
 Those joys which were too sweet to last, 
 
 When life was new. 
 
INKLINGS. 273 
 
 When we had been at school all day. 
 Had learned the lessons with the play, 
 And low the sun sunk with delay, 
 
 And cool winds blew, 
 Then we would hasten to the cot, 
 Where weariness was all forgot ; 
 And heaven blest our humble lot. 
 
 When life was new. 
 
 The elm which grew beside the way. 
 The rose-bush where we oft did stray, 
 May sink with others in decay, 
 
 The wide world through; 
 Yet they will live in memory's page, 
 A green spot in the waste of age, 
 As when the heart they did engage, 
 
 When life was new. 
 
 Those days have fled, but left a spell, 
 The bosom warm with life to swell, 
 Which language is too poor to tell, 
 
 While I review 
 That morning sun without a spot, 
 That joyous life without a blot ; 
 never can all be forgot, 
 
 When life was new ! 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PEN. 
 
 Long years ago, long years ago, 
 
 When Greece and Rome were young, 
 Those happy days of pleasant lays 
 
 Which then the poets sung. 
 The iron Pen was used by men, 
 
 To give their thoughts a form 
 Which might remain without a stain, 
 
 Protected from the storm. 
 In after time, where Egypt's clime 
 
 Suggested something new, 
 Paper was made, to sell or trade, 
 
 A common thing to you ; 
 And then the style, from ancient Nile, 
 
 Was thrown away by man, 
 And he stood still, without a quill, 
 
 To mark some noble plan. 
 
INKLINGS. 277 
 
 At length the bow was made to show 
 The skill of manly hand ; 
 
 The bird on wing, soon felt the sting 
 "Which brought it to the land. 
 
 The Pen has told of wars most bold, 
 
 And triumphs nobly won, 
 And pilgrims tread where freemen bled, 
 
 And patriotic son 
 "Who reads the page, the name and age 
 
 Of those who nobly fell. 
 Must feel a thrill his bosom fill, 
 
 With burning ardor swell. 
 What magic spell, has name of Tell, 
 
 And not for Swiss alone, 
 Each freeman' 3 right, a name to blight 
 
 The despot on his throne ! 
 And Robert Bruce will grant no truce 
 
 To his own country's foe, 
 But with his band will draw his brand, 
 
 There's freedom in each blow ! 
 
 Turn we from strife, where human life 
 Is bartered for its rights, 
 
 To fields of green which may be seen, 
 Now free from nature's blights ; 
 
 To bird and bower, and vernal shower. 
 
 13 
 
278 INKLINGS. 
 
 And streamlet running gay, 
 Where Cupid's dart lias pierced the heart. 
 
 In smiling month of May. 
 The word of Burns, then oft returns 
 
 To cheer our lonely lot. 
 When friends sincere we sometimes fear, 
 
 Kind greetings have forgot. 
 When Alpine tide, with current wide, 
 
 Rolls back upon the heart, 
 The frozen stream, which still may gleam, 
 
 Yet pleasure not impart, 
 The Pen which wrote what needs no nota 
 
 That '• man was made to mourn," 
 Some comfort gives to him who lives 
 
 With sorrow overborne. 
 And Shakspeare, grand on every hand, 
 
 Wise maxims gives to all, 
 To cheer, to bless, and to caress 
 
 The sons of Adam's fall. 
 The name his Pen has given men, 
 
 Will live till doom is past, 
 And echo then, from every glen, 
 
 Repeat it to the blast. 
 Milton, sublime in every clime, 
 
 Where human thought has been, 
 Gives visions bright, to cheer the sight,. 
 
 All free from inbred sin. 
 
INKLINGS. 279 
 
 In early life before the strife, 
 
 The struggle has begun, 
 AYhen passion free, roves like a bee 
 
 In summer's shining sun. 
 The Pen informs of wint'ry storms 
 
 AVhich yet may blow full cold, 
 Teaches the young, they may be stung, 
 
 If they should be too bold. 
 Blest, if they hear with timely fear, 
 
 The counsel of the wise, 
 Incline to men of wisdom's Pen, 
 
 And ripen for the skies. 
 
 The sword has might, in field of fight, 
 
 To lay opposers low ; 
 The Pen has power, its richest dower, 
 
 To give and guide the blow* 
 Fame oft will sleep, or lowly creep, 
 
 Till winged by magic Pen, 
 Then she will rise, and through the skies 
 
 Bear deeds of noble men. 
 All hail the Pen ! the mighty Pen ! 
 
 The giant of the day ; 
 "We'll bind his brow, with myrtle now, 
 
 And leave him with our lay ! 
 
280 INKLINGS. 
 
 FREE SCHOOLS. 
 
 Cl He is a freeman whom the truth makes free I" 
 
 He is a freeman whom the truth makes free, 
 Whate'er the hue which nature may bestow ; 
 
 The unlearned man, in bonds will surely be, 
 Though fortune favor with its gifts below. 
 
 Is that man free, who knows no truth, no laws, 
 Beyond the primal wants nature bestows ? 
 
 Who walks in blindness to the moving cause, 
 Whenever nature wakens from repose? 
 
 Is that man free, who, when the lightnings play 
 And sportive leap among their cloudy bowers, 
 
 Knows not their laws ? Is he not free, I pray, 
 To whom they tamely yield their august powers ? 
 
 And is he free, who, when the starry sky 
 Sweetly invites our night dreams far away, 
 
 Sees nothing more than meets the idle eye? 
 No distant glory kindling into day ? 
 
 He is an exile from his native home, 
 Who knows no beauty in the flowers' bloom ; 
 
 And doomed a careless wanderer to roam, 
 And penury of soul will be his doom. 
 
INKLINGS. 281 
 
 For him the rain may fall, the fields look gay, 
 And geological stores in earth may be ; 
 
 He feels like one who treads an unknown way, 
 Fear stays his footsteps, and he is not free. 
 
 The time has come when statesmen must agree, 
 That mind, the noblest treasure of the great, 
 
 Demands their care ; and children must be free, 
 By free instruction, in the Empire State. 
 
 And when thus taught, they firmly will be bound 
 By strongest ties known to the human heart, 
 
 For right and country always to be found ; 
 As freely they receive, freely impart. 
 
 THE SABBATH. 
 
 How grateful seems the Sabbath day, 
 When toiling man can rest ; 
 
 Can learn to praise and learn to pray, 
 And be forever blest ! 
 
282 INKLINGS. 
 
 When worldly care may cease to crave 
 Each passion to control ; 
 
 And man can look beyond the grave, 
 Where ages endless roll. 
 
 Hail, holy Day ! on which the Lord 
 Rose from the cold, dark grave ; 
 
 Hail, holy Day ! on which the Lord 
 Arose, mankind to save ! 
 
 To him a grateful voice we raise, 
 
 For his redeeming love ; 
 While here on earth we learn to praise. 
 
 But more shall know above. 
 
 With meekness may we tread the road 
 Which leads to love on high ! 
 
 Lord take us to thy blest abode, 
 When we are called to die ! 
 
 And we will sing on that blest shore, 
 Where life and love shall blend, 
 
 Redeeming love forever more, 
 And ages without end ! 
 
INKLINGS. 283 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Change, change forever, is the law which guides 
 And governs all things here below ; 
 
 Forever marches with gigantic strides, 
 In haste, some new good to bestow. 
 
 The eager eye turns from the scene around, 
 From the dear scene it loved so well, 
 
 To some new landscape on enchanted ground, 
 "Where hope unscathed may love to dwell. 
 
 Summer advances, and with ardent gaze 
 
 Pursues retiring Spring along ; 
 And when her burning eye may us amaze, 
 
 "We feel the transport of her song. 
 
 Thy yearly visit from the tropic zone, 
 
 We greet with pleasure, fair brunette ! 
 
 With welcome warms us, after thou hast flown, 
 We long remember we have met. 
 
 Come, as thon hast come, with thy face all warm 
 With life-blood flowing from the heart ! 
 
 Hide not thy face behind a frowning storm, 
 Wh^re the red lightnings play their part ! 
 
284 INKLINGS. 
 
 Come, as thou hast come, with thy tresses free 
 And zone unbound to court the breeze, 
 
 When the bees roving in sweet odor's sea, 
 Repose beneath the leafy trees I 
 
 And the long, evening twilight grateful seems, 
 With its cool air and gentle dew. 
 
 After the vertic sun's warm, melting beams 
 Have, in the west, declined from view. 
 
 The firefly for a moment lights the air, 
 The cricket sings upon the hearth; 
 
 With gentle evening comes release from care ; 
 And quiet then, is noisy mirth. 
 
 With thy fair sisters of the south, delay, 
 And then return unto us here ; 
 
 And when from Capricorn thou dost essay 
 
 To come, bring with thee warming cheer ! 
 
 When cold winter in icy chains has bound 
 Each brook that prattled to the sea, 
 
 Then, fair Summer ! on thy return be found, 
 The helpless captive to set free I 
 
INKLINGS. 285 
 
 LAMENT FOE IKELAND. 
 
 Could that lovely, green isle float away to a clime 
 Where the vulture's protection would cease to devour, 
 Then would the sweet music of streams in their chime, 
 Seem sweeter, and gayer the rose perfumed bower. 
 
 Long, long has the blight of oppression been feeding, 
 Like the worm in the bud which prevented its bloom ; 
 Long, the wail of distress rose to power unheeding 
 The dark cloud which lingered around with its gloom. 
 
 May the time swiftly come when the shackles shall fall, 
 And a shout shall be raised for the Emerald Isle \ 
 "When the glad sons of Erin, in Liberty's hall, 
 Shall sing their bold anthems and cheer with a smile ! 
 
 While the hoarse-sounding billows around thy green shore, 
 Shall reply to the pain of thy grief-stricken heart. 
 May hope ever linger round each cottage door, 
 And comfort with visions which it can impart ! 
 
 13* 
 
286 INKLINGS. 
 
 EPITAPH FOR A REVOLUTIONARY PATRIOT. 
 
 Rest for the weary, rest from the toil 
 Which assisted a nation to free ; 
 
 Hope for the humble, hope for the soil 
 
 Where the confiding Christian may be ! 
 
 HUNGARY. 
 
 A DIRGE. 
 
 Mourn, friends of Freedom ! weep the Magyar slain, 
 Who for his country and its rights did stand ; 
 Who bathed with warm blood, his loved, native plain. 
 And died with blessings for his native land. 
 
 And is that blood so nobly shed, in vain ? 
 Will Austria fear not for the coming doom ? 
 Will no dark shadows flit around her reign, 
 To haunt her palace and her festive room ! 
 
INKLINGS. 287 
 
 Yes, from the ground the voice of blood will cry^ 
 And bring dismay into the tyrant's heart; 
 While soft, eolian strains may sweetly sigh. 
 Base fear will mock the transports they impart. 
 
 The lonely Magyar on his native hill, 
 The sad survivor of his country's fall. 
 Will hear a solace in the midnight still, 
 Whispered with visions which the heart appall. 
 
 And when the time shall come, as come it will, 
 For Freedom to erect her drooping head, 
 Her watch-fire then will burn on every hill, 
 And light the ashes of her noble dead. 
 
 Mourn, friends of Freedom ! weep her early flight, 
 For she has fled, pursued by trampling arms 5 
 All hail the goddess welcome to the sight, 
 And safe protect her from the tyrant's harms ! 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 The heart a sad. responsive strain, 
 Feels, when the Autumn gale, 
 
288 INKLINGS. 
 
 Its farewell sighs around the plain, 
 And whispers in the vale. 
 
 Hark ! hear the voice it speaks to you, 
 While viewing nature's scene ; 
 
 Sad memories it brings to view, 
 Sear fields, yet once so green ! 
 
 No more is heard the robin's song, 
 The rose has faded now ; 
 
 The last rose of the summer long, 
 Now decks no fairy brow. 
 
 The blighting frost has been at play 
 Among the forest leaves, 
 
 And with a thousand colors gay, 
 Fantastic vision weaves. 
 
 Those colors are the warning glow 
 
 Of nature ere it dies, 
 And kindly beckon to bestow 
 
 The smile which it denies. 
 
 The dull sun now no rainbow forms 
 Upon the dark cloud's brow ; 
 
 The driving winds and pelting storms 
 Are cold and frequent, now, 
 
INKLINGS. 289 
 
 Yet, Autumn ! thou hast pleasant days, 
 And fruit a goodly store ; 
 
 The nut-brown maid in pleasant lays, 
 Sings tales in days of yore. 
 
 When plenty smiles, all should rejoice, 
 And hard must be the heart 
 
 Which feels no kindling in its voice, 
 Which Autumn scenes impart. 
 
 THE FARMER. 
 
 To till the soil with honest toil, 
 
 Is noble in design ; 
 To plow and sow, and reap and mow, 
 
 To wisdom may incline. 
 With nature's voice, it is his choice 
 
 To hold communion sweet, 
 The Farmer's mind is thus made kind. 
 
 As passing seasons greet. 
 
 The birds and flowers, the wild- wood bowers 
 Are his too see and hear. 
 
290 INKLINGS. 
 
 And odors fair are in the air, 
 And strange to him is fear. 
 
 The sylvan song of all the throng 
 Which warbles in the shade, 
 
 From mountain side does sweetly glide 
 To yonder, distant glade. 
 
 The grass and grain upon the plain, 
 
 Are waving in the breeze, 
 The herd is seen where pastures green 
 
 Invite to shade of trees. 
 And when at noon is felt full soon, 
 
 The sun's directest ray, 
 The gentle brooks in pleasant nooks, 
 
 Invite him there to stay. 
 
 When toil is done and he has won 
 
 A relish for his food, 
 For supper fair he may prepare, 
 
 With thoughts of gentle mood. 
 His house, not gay, repels no ray 
 
 To cheer his humble lot ; 
 While slumbers sweet his eyelids greet, 
 
 All labor is forgot. 
 
 Ye city gents who pay your rents 
 And breathe a tainted air, 
 
INKLINGS. 291 
 
 Come to the land where all is grand, 
 
 And view the beauties there ! 
 The fair cascade, the green- wood glade, 
 
 The hill, the vale and fields ! 
 The rustic band which reaps the land, 
 
 Fiom want and famine shields. 
 
 Bards, who have sung while maidens hung 
 
 Enraptured on the verse, 
 Of mountains grand, and zephyrs bland, 
 
 Fanning while they rehearse, 
 Have sung sweet strains which warm the veins 
 
 With scenes of rural life, 
 So free from care, so kind and fair, 
 
 So free from art and strife ! 
 
 The child at play among the hay, 
 
 The ducks upon the pond, 
 The willows sad, where oft were glad, 
 
 Young lives when hearts were fond, 
 The mossy bank, where oft they drank 
 
 The music of the rill, 
 And sang a lay to pass the day — 
 
 How sweet their memory still ! 
 
 The Farmer's life is free from strife, 
 While others vainly roam, 
 
292 INKLINGS. 
 
 And all his care, how sweet to share 
 With friends around his home ! 
 
 All honor, then, to those brave men, 
 The soil are tilling now ; 
 
 And while they toil upon the soil, 
 All honor to the plow ! 
 
 THE LADY WHO SANG FOR ME. 
 
 sweetly she sang of her own native mountains, 
 Where childhood had gathered its quick-fading flowers ; 
 Enchantingly sang of her own gushing fountains 
 Which sparkled with gladness around the green bowers ! 
 
 Far away from the ocean's wild-raging billows, 
 Was a home above which the proud eagle did soar 5 
 And around it were streams all drooping with willows, 
 Where the brooklets were kissing the smooth-pebbled shore. 
 
 For her friends she breathed with the purest devotion, 
 The affection which comes from the home of the heart ; 
 And rich was that voice with its trembling emotion, 
 As it poured forth the wealth it did freely impart. 
 
INKLINGS. 293 
 
 The birds on the hill-side, so sweetly were singing. 
 When the pure breath of morn had awaked them again, 
 In her ear their notes had been constantly ringing, 
 And among them she hoped ever more to remain. 
 
 Other places were dear, where the heart had entwined 
 The green wreath of affection to bloom ever more. 
 Yet the morning of life and its scenes here combined 
 To impress the mind deep with its unwritten lore. 
 
 Sweet bird of the mountain ! when thou art returning, 
 
 In the eyry to nestle from which thou dost roam, 
 
 Those thoughts and those words in this heart shall be burning \ 
 
 To the warbler, farewell, and her green mountain home I 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 LIFE AND THE SEASONS. 
 
 When life with all its nerves is new, 
 And golden sunshine gives its hue 
 To all around within the view, 
 
 Then may we say, 
 As we look back in after years, 
 To all its smiles and pearly tears, 
 And hopes made radiant with fears, 
 
 A sweet, spring day. 
 
 As in the spring, florets expand, 
 By kindly winds are often fanned, 
 And gentle rains revive the land, 
 
 Life's only May 
 Hangs buds of promise on each bough 
 Which throws a shade upon the brow, 
 And buries deep with culture's plow, 
 
 That sweet, spring day. 
 
INKLINGS. 295 
 
 The birds sing sweetest in the spring, 
 Their notes from bliss they seem to bring, 
 And upward borne upon the wing, 
 
 Their distant lay, 
 On waving circles of the air, 
 Comes gliding down so free from care, 
 That all the earth seems then more fair. 
 
 On sweet, spring day. 
 
 Life's spring time does not hear the strife, 
 The cares and pains of after life, 
 "With which humanity is rife ; 
 
 To want no prey, 
 The ear is then attuned to hear, 
 "We listen with a heart sincere, 
 And mingle love with every fear, 
 
 On such a day. 
 
 Swift fly our joys while here below, 
 Swift as the arrow from the bow. 
 As warrior gives the fatal blow, 
 
 So swiftly they 
 Pass on and leave no trace behind, 
 Or leave us groping like the blind, 
 For joys we hope once more to find, 
 
 On such a day. 
 
296 INKLINGS. 
 
 Spring passes, and near in her train, 
 Summer pursues along the plain, 
 With waving fields of yellow grain 
 
 And fragrant hay ; 
 Warm welcome greets us from her hand, 
 With plenty spread o'er all the land, 
 And cooled with evening zephyr bland, 
 
 Is summer day. 
 
 When thunders roll along the sky, 
 And vivid lightning's flash is nigh, 
 Then for a shelter we all fly 
 
 The nearest way ; 
 And while in bondage we remain, 
 A fleeting hour may oft detain, 
 And stamp it thus, " passed not in vain, 
 
 A summer day." 
 
 Then from the mountains and the hills, 
 Descend the gentle, tinkling rills, 
 The rain the air with freshness fills, 
 
 And we all may 
 Feast on the beauties of the scene 
 Which nature paints with living green, 
 With no sad thought to intervene, 
 
 On that fair day. 
 
INKLINGS. 29? 
 
 And when the sun declines to rest, 
 Behind the azure-burnished west, 
 With promise of to-morrow blest, 
 
 And glim'ring ray- 
 Calls Fancy to ascend her car, 
 Pass through the space to some bright star, 
 We then forget, while distant far, 
 
 That summer day. 
 
 And has not life its summer time, 
 When ardent with its warmer clime, 
 The bosom throbs its ans'ring chime, 
 
 When youthful play 
 Is placed aside for sterner joy, 
 When man forgets his former toy 
 Which pleased him most, while yet a boy, 
 
 Ere summer day? 
 
 Then Fortune too, that fickle maid, 
 May throw upon his brow a shade 
 Which like a summer cloud, may fade 
 
 And pass away ; 
 Then brighter will his sky appear, 
 As distant fly some doubt and fear, 
 And each loved object seem more dear 
 
 Than summer day. 
 
298 INKLINGS. 
 
 But autumn follows summer soon. 
 As morning heralds in the noon, 
 So summer loud proclaims the boon 
 
 Which follows — yea, 
 The gift in kindness it prepares, 
 Divides and well the banquet shares, 
 To soothe man's labor and his cares, 
 
 On autumn day. 
 
 The rich and varied autumn brings 
 A thousand, sweet, delicious things, 
 Borne from the past on swiftest wings, 
 
 The ample pay 
 For all man's former, active toil, 
 While delving in the fertile soil ; 
 As to the beard was ancient oil, 
 
 So autumn day. 
 
 The reapers shout the harvest home. 
 With voice re-echoed from the dome 
 On high, and man forgets to roam 
 
 Or further stray, 
 And joins the chorus of the song, 
 The sinking cadence all prolong, 
 While stars shine out upon the throng, 
 
 That autumn day. 
 
INKLWGS. 299 
 
 Then comes the yellow, withered leaf, 
 Fit emblem of man's life, so brief. 
 And frosted hopes changed into grief 3 
 
 And silver gray, 
 Well sprinkled in his auburn hair, 
 Eeminds him that it has be^n fair, 
 But now has come with all its care, 
 
 Life's autumn day. 
 
 In evening twilight's thoughtful time. 
 In autum's retrospective clime, 
 The mind reverts to fancy's chime, 
 
 "When life was gay ; 
 Ee-visits then the mould'ring urn, 
 Where buried joys to dust return, 
 And broken altars incense burn, 
 
 On autumn day. 
 
 From autumn rain comes winter snow, 
 When piercing winds begin to blow, 
 And as the white flakes thicker grow 
 
 Around the sleigh, 
 It glides along through arid seas. 
 With white waves fashioned by the breeze ; 
 A long, old debt with all its fees, 
 
 Is winter day. 
 
300 INKLINGS. 
 
 And jet, that day has pleasure new. 
 Around the social hearth, a few, 
 When converse sweet invites to view 
 
 Forgotten — nay, 
 The sleeping visions which recall, 
 To fancy's bright and airy hall, 
 The gallant hosts which disinthrall 
 
 A winter day. 
 
 Our fleeting lives like seasons pass ; 
 How swiftly they do fly ! Alas, 
 That we are so much like the grass ! 
 
 We only stay, 
 And vegetate through summer bloom ; 
 In autumn time, lament the doom 
 Which then consigns us to the gloom 
 
 Of winter day. 
 
 And when, at last, the withering storm, 
 
 The face of nature may deform, 
 
 And southern suns have ceased to warm, 
 
 Then let us pray 
 Sincerely for a last release, 
 That we may be where storms will cease, 
 And smiling plenty crown with peace, 
 
 A winter day. 
 
INKLINGS. 301 
 
 PARTING SONG. 
 
 The time has come when we must part, 
 
 Perhaps to meet no more ; 
 But treasured safely in the heart. 
 
 Is mem'rys golden store. 
 
 When sun has set, and vesper hour 
 
 Shuts out the glare of day, 
 Oft will the mind resign its power, 
 
 To fancy's genial sway. 
 
 And we will gaze upon that star 
 Which heralds in the night, 
 
 And fondly think, though distant far, 
 That friends are in our sight. 
 
 And every petal of the spring, 
 
 As it unfolds to air, 
 Shall with it the remembrance bring, 
 
 That all the past was fair. 
 
 When in sleep's kind and sweet embrace. 
 
 The fancy wanders free, 
 It swift will pass beyond the space, 
 
 A friendly face to see. 
 
 14 
 
302 INKLINGS. 
 
 Then we will join the long lost hand, 
 In dreamy land of bliss, 
 
 Where balmy airs breathe all the bland 
 Delight of maiden's kiss. 
 
 Let fortune frown, if friends Will smile 
 And think upon us still, 
 
 The thought shall weariness beguile, 
 Our hearts with pleasure fill. 
 
 We part, but hope to meet again, 
 And soothe a lonely hour, 
 
 With converse sweet, all free from pain, 
 In smiling fortune's bower. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 There are deep fountains in the heart, 
 From pure affection flowing ; 
 
 And pleasure sweet, they do impart, 
 A balm for ill bestowing. 
 
 A priceless gem, for you and me, 
 Within the breast is gleaming; 
 
INKLINGS. 303 
 
 May we by faith the treasure see, 
 The gem so brightly beaming. 
 
 There is a light which well may shine, 
 Where darkness ever sitting, 
 
 Causes the weary to repine, 
 
 "With shadows never flitting. 
 
 Hope warbles then its blithest lay, 
 When April tears are falling ; 
 
 Yet frightened, it will never stay 
 Where scenes are too appalling. 
 
 Our motto, then, u seek out the wrong 
 And see it gently righted ; 
 
 The weak and feeble, make them strong, 
 Crush not a hope when blighted." 
 
 SONG. 
 
 The world moves on with rapid stride, 
 And ceaseless is its motion, 
 
304 INKLINGS. 
 
 The smoothest life must downward glide 
 
 Like river to the ocean ; 
 So farewell, care, and farewell, strife, 
 
 A truce to all commotion, 
 While gliding down the stream of life, 
 
 Whose waves are deep emotion ! 
 
 J 
 Our bark sits lightly on the wave, 
 
 When winds are gently blowing, 
 The tempest, who would wish to brave, 
 
 Valor in vain bestowing ? 
 Then we will court the pleasant gale, 
 
 While we are bravely rowing, 
 And to the wind will trim the sail, 
 
 Glide with the stream when flowing. 
 
 The siren song of hope will cheer 
 
 The weary heart of sadness, 
 The darkest vale of earthly fear, 
 
 Must have one star of gladness. 
 Were this not so, life's fevered cup 
 
 Would bring the brain to madness 5 
 Hope has a pleasure which all sup, 
 
 To alternate with sadness. 
 
INKLINGS. 303 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY WHO REQUESTED ME TO 
 WRITE " SOME VERSES." 
 
 Time flies like courser on the plain, 
 Like fair ships sailing on the main, 
 Like swift drops coming in the rain — 
 
 Time never sleeps. 
 He leaves the weary to repose, 
 Onward he flies and onward goes, 
 Nor winks an eye when strong wind blows, 
 
 Or maiden weeps. 
 
 Since time is fleeting, art is long, 
 Let us take courage and be strong, 
 Something to do, which may belong 
 
 To future time. 
 Leave way-marks as we onward go, 
 Which good on others may bestow. 
 While seeking in this vale below, 
 
 Some happy clime. 
 
 If you, sweet Maidj were only near, 
 And of me were in no great fear, 
 I then might whisper in your ear, 
 This gentle truth ; 
 
306 INKLINGS. 
 
 There's nothing better far a man, 
 Or any of the maiden clan, 
 Than to get married, if they can, 
 While in their youth. 
 
 A MAIDEN EPISTLE. 
 
 You may, dear Maid, think me too bold, 
 But sure you will not think me cold, 
 
 In writing thus to you ; 
 So please excuse my hasty rhyme. 
 If it intrude upon your time, 
 
 Another's honest due. 
 
 Your paper I received last night, 
 And read it all by candle light, 
 
 Well pleased to. see the verse 
 Which comfort gives " to mourning friends," 
 Directing to the love which blends 
 
 With pity round the hearse. 
 
?f~ 
 
 •' i 
 Although with ton ad they greet, 
 
 And fall upon the ear, 
 Like sighing of the autumn breeze. 
 When half the leaves are from the tre§s, 
 
 And half remain in fear. 
 
 Who has not felt that life is brief? 
 Who has not felt for friends a grief, 
 
 Friends in the silent tomb ? 
 Ah me ! who would the grave unshroud, 
 Around their sky throw earth's cold cloud 
 
 And penitential gloom ? 
 
 But I am in a doleful vein, 
 In fact it was a doleful strain, 
 
 Those verses brought to mind. 
 Departed friends a tear may claim, 
 Which we, when we become the same, 
 
 Might wish with thoughts most kind. 
 
 Blest be the social, cheering ray, 
 Which turns our darkness into day. 
 
 And warms the chilling air ! 
 Blest be the sun of social worth, 
 Which warms around the social hearth, 
 
 Friendship serene and fair ! 
 
308 INKLINGS. 
 
 We met and parted, and an hour 
 Between, we passed in friendship's bower ; 
 
 How soon it passed away ! 
 Its thoughts return to cheer me now, 
 While I recall a silent vow, 
 
 There made at close of day. 
 
 Why, on the dark cloud's brow is seen 
 The rainbow's bright and golden sheen, 
 
 And why, those thoughts return ! 
 The bow of promise spans the storm, 
 Gives to our thoughts a brighter form, 
 
 From it the future learn. 
 
 May not those thoughts, returned to bless^ 
 To cheer us with one sweet caress, 
 
 Dispel all present gloom, 
 Point to the day when we may meet, 
 And pass an hour which we may greet, 
 
 Like that with fragrant bloom ? 
 
 But I must close 'this hasty rhyme, 
 (Your debtor now, for too much time, 
 
 Perhaps for patience too,) 
 With best respects for all your friends, 
 And hopes, that heaven kindly sends 
 
 All needful things to you. 
 
INKLINGS. 309 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 There have been times when solitude was sweet 3 
 When unobserved, the mind could travel back. 
 
 Each old familiar friend with kindness greet, 
 Eeview the scenes upon the winding track. 
 
 I would not always live within a crowd, 
 "With door closed safely against reflection, 
 Securely barred from all self-inspection \ 
 
 It may be well to think upon the shroud, 
 
 The last farewell to kindred and to friends, 
 That we more truly may prize the blessings 
 
 Which heaven here in kindness to us sends ; 
 And those remembered, friendly caressings 
 
 May not withdraw our thoughts far from the King 
 
 Who rules above, where we may hope to sing. 
 
 LIGHT. 
 
 While darkness was brooding over the earth 
 And phantoms were flitting through all the air, 
 
 Untimely then was the season of mirth, 
 Lost to the sight was the form of the fair } 
 14* 
 
310 INKLINGS. 
 
 [Recalled no more was the dream of her worth, 
 
 As specters of night passed on without care. 
 Light comes to the world, the vision departs, 
 
 And nature awakes from dreams to the truth ; 
 The friend who returns, a pleasure imparts. 
 
 Which fancy can not bestow on her youth. 
 The first ray, which with the morning returns, 
 
 Bears along its kind promise of gladness ; 
 The last ray which on the western cloud burns, 
 
 Has a lesson and moral of sadness. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A noble ship was rocking on the tide, 
 
 "With canvass spread to every passing breeze ; 
 Over the waters did she gently glide, 
 
 A careless crew were riding on the seas. 
 Green isles gemmed the bosom of the ocean* 
 
 And tropic fruit hung golden in the sun ; 
 There were no signs of a great commotion, 
 
 And life was happy as when first begun. 
 There came a change, and wild winds were howling, 
 
 And mountain waves were rolling on the deep ; 
 Savage destruction seemed to be prowling, 
 
 Until a gentle form was roused from sleep. 
 
INKLINGS, 311 
 
 That form was Friendship, guiding on the crew, 
 To safe retreats known only to a few. 
 
 TO A FRIEND ON DEPARTING FOR CALIFORNIA. 
 
 I would not say a word, or breathe a thought, 
 
 Which might bring sadness on the parting hour, 
 Or cloud that sky which you in fancy sought, 
 
 Where wealth untold may give its envied power, 
 By gently hinting, you may think cheap bought, 
 
 Your own sweet home, for fancy-painted bower. 
 Go, with your own strong will to do the right, 
 
 And on the sea, may fair winds fill the sail, 
 Unkind misfortune no sweet prospects blight, 
 
 And winds show favor when they blow a gale! 
 Go, with the best wish of a heart sincere, 
 
 That fortune yet may speed your bark for home, 
 With wealth, above the thought of want or fear, 
 
 Beyond the wish, from friends again to roam I 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 Numbers can add no sweetness to the name 
 Which is adorned with all of maiden grace, 
 
312 INKLINGS. 
 
 And modest worth can never envy fame 
 Which paints the blushes on a smiling face. 
 
 When among a thousand flowers, the rose 
 Alone entices with its pure sweetness. 
 Organs which are grateful for its meetness. 
 
 The modest flowers will not come to blows ; 
 
 Or if they should, they quickly will reveal. 
 How sweet the odors from their pistils flash, 
 
 Which they unable longer to conceal, 
 
 Released from bondage by their one act rash. 
 
 Alas, that flowers of the human form, 
 So fair 3 must wither in the blighting storm ! 
 
 THE FUTURE. 
 
 The bee, with labor while the flowers bloom, 
 Gathers its sweetness from the fields and groves, 
 
 Yet how unconscious of its coming doom, 
 As, hoarding sweet for future want, it roves ! 
 
 Instinct seems bending all its force to send 
 
 The bee where odors with gay beauty blend. 
 
INKLINGS. 313 
 
 And would the flower blooming in the field, 
 For which the dews of evening gently fall, 
 
 Its sweetest incense with reluctance yield, 
 If its gay summer and its death were all 
 
 Perceived 1 Or would it wish to rove the air, 
 
 Exhale its incense to some angel there? 
 
 And would that bird which gayly sings the morn^ 
 As from the bough it soars to greet the day, 
 
 Wish to return to this poor world forlorn, 
 To storms and sorrow chant its sweetest lay 1 
 
 Or would it not soar on, ne'er to return \ 
 
 Soar on, and on, and on, where seraphs burn ? 
 
 Nature bestows a nobler gift on man, 
 
 To guide his changing course while here below. 
 
 To guard his bark when life's sea-breezes fan a 
 And goodly counsel on his plans bestow. 
 
 Reason the gift, which though an erring child, 
 
 Is kind and dutiful, sedate and mild. 
 
 Memory, Hope * and Fancy, in her train, 
 
 "With many more, lead through a winding course, 
 
 Nature's arcana now explore in vain, 
 And then make known of nature's law the force. 
 
 Reason directs them, or perhaps they might 
 
 Run wild with passion, lose their way in night. 
 
314 INKLINGS. 
 
 Conducting man to the plains of glory, 
 
 "Where valor won the deathless wreath of fame. 
 
 They charm him with some old, classic story ; 
 Now this, then that, fair Reason learns to blame : 
 
 And as he views the place where heroes died, 
 
 He may repine their lot to him denied. 
 
 Where senates have convened, he treads the aisles, 
 The quiet walls seem eloquent to him ; 
 
 The moss-grown tower in the sunset smiles, 
 A patriarch smile in eve's twilight dim ; 
 
 The aisle and tower, wrecks of human art, 
 
 Each have a lesson which they may impart. 
 
 While Memory is busy with her store, 
 
 Gathered from every clime and age of earth, 
 
 And with a single league around the shore, 
 
 Which we have sailed, perhaps with joy and mirth ; 
 
 Hope ever near, is pointing to an isle 
 
 Where spring eternal greets us with a smile. 
 
 And willing Fancy paints the distant scene, 
 Which Hope discovered with exulting pride, 
 
 With brooks and bowers, and a brighter green 
 Than has adorned a hill or mountain-side ; 
 
 And then she smiles with pleasure in her eye, 
 
 Looks back and laughs, to think how Hope will cry. 
 
INKLINGS. 315 
 
 Her gay companions. Reason vainly chides, 
 Directing to the way which they have trod, 
 
 In her own conscious purity abides, 
 
 And trusts reposing on the arm of God ; 
 
 While all her servile train reproved, draw near, 
 
 And listen to the dictates which they fear. 
 
 Man, no unkind spectator of the scene, 
 
 Inquires of reason what the cause may be, 
 That Fancy paints the isle so rich a green, 
 And Hope its beauty can not plainly see. 
 Reason says, u Fancy is a wayward child, 
 Hope is near-sighted, but in manners mild. 
 
 There is an isle, and if you more would know, 
 Row on your boat to yonder point in view ; 
 
 This is the most that I can now bestow, 
 Hope is nearer than Fancy to the true. 
 
 Row on your bonny boat while winds are fair, 
 
 And of the future have not too much care. 
 
 Fancy has gathered from the world around, 
 
 A chin, a lip, a cheek, a brow, an eye, 
 And in sweet union made with grace abound, 
 
 A model never seen beneath the sky. 
 Thus she delights to pass the fleeting time, 
 Selecting beauties from some distant clime. 
 
316 INKLINGS. 
 
 Hope is sedate, and yet a joyful child. 
 And full of loye for every gentle friend ; 
 
 Fancy sometimes imposes on the mild, 
 
 "With gaudy colors which she well may send 
 
 To some far distance, that they may not see 
 
 Too well, and judge aright what it may be. 
 
 Seek not to know the future, it would bring 
 A thousand cares from which you now are free ; 
 
 The knowledge of your fate would prove a sting, 
 Which Hope with all her blindness, well might see. 
 
 Improve the present, rest you on His arm 
 
 Which moves the world, to shield you from all harm. 
 
 If love alone ruled in the human breast, 
 And kindred graces followed in its train, 
 
 Man would be happy and his lot be blessed, 
 And sorrows soothed would lose one-half their pain. 
 
 Seek then, this sure antidote for sorrow, 
 
 Borrow no more trouble of to-morrow." 
 
 She ceased ; around her lips a smile was wreathed, 
 Fancy and hope looked pensive in her sight, 
 
 The very air around her which she breathed, 
 Seemed redolent of nectarine delight ; 
 
 And that smile, while it was from her straying, 
 
 Seemed " like Luna on the water playing." 
 
INKLINGS. 317 
 
 The vision slowly faded from my mind, 
 But not the lesson which it sweetly taught ; 
 
 To others' failings let me be not blind, 
 
 But never ask my good will to be bought 5 
 
 And for the future, trust to Him in love, 
 
 Who kindiv sends us blindness from above, 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING NIAGARA FALLS, 
 
 Oft have I dreamed of thee, when balmy slumbers 
 
 Invite the vision to fair scenes again ; 
 And then have wooed thee with some sweeter number^ 
 
 To listen to the echoes of my strain. 
 Could these feeble accents now wed the waters 
 
 Which to the skies their ceaseless anthem raise ? 
 They would be fairer than Italian daughters, 
 
 And more deserving of eternal praise. 
 
 They would be circled with the rainbow's glory, 
 Which storms might brighten, but could never fade ; 
 
 Their nuptials would become a classic story, 
 And earth would sing the chorus for the maid. 
 
Opon the fiel i won, 
 
 No fear would cause them ever to be weeping. 
 And Nature's voice would soothe to rest her sen. 
 
 No sickly fancy in that voice is wailing 
 
 The dirge of fleeting joys now passed away ; 
 No future prospect in its tone is failing 
 
 To grant the boon for which poor mortals pray. 
 No airy lightness in its tone, deriding 
 
 The joys or sorrows of a summer hour ; 
 No harshness in its voice is heard, dividing 
 
 With love and scorn, thoughts <3f a rosy bower. 
 
 That deep-toned voice forever is resounding, 
 
 While earth and air reply to it again ; 
 The white foam on the wave below is bounding, 
 
 And hastening onward to the waiting main. 
 Above, the mighty waters ever rushing 
 
 To where the deep is waiting them below ; 
 They come, they come, with music from them gushing, 
 
 The ceaseless anthem which they now bestow. 
 
 Man's puny arm may not forget its weakness, 
 While it is trembling with that voice divine ; 
 
 The haughty heart must be subdued to meekness, 
 And to adore, must all his thoughts incline. 
 
INKLINGS 319 
 
 The loudest ac ng, 
 
 But droop and dw i speaks, 
 
 While Nature's voice his weakness is appalling. 
 Turning those efforts vain, to sickly freaks, 
 
 The past and future are around it blending, 
 
 Crowding the present with their swift array 5 
 It speaks of hoary age and time unending, 
 
 And man forgets the purpose of to-day. 
 It tells of power, divine, supreme, eternal, 
 
 Firm and resistless in its onward course ; 
 Its distant whisper is the love supernal. 
 
 Which guides and governs all its mighty force, 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON VISITING THE BATTLE-GROUND, NEAR 
 STILLWATER, ON THE HUDSON RIVER. 
 
 How still and peaceful is the scene around ! 
 
 And from the quiet heights above, are seen 
 Fair, rural prospects which with charms abound, 
 
 Fields clothed with verdure in its gayest green. 
 
320 INKLINGS. 
 
 Between the hills, in yonder lovely vale. 
 
 The scene is curtained with a cloud like snow ; 
 
 While Willard Mountain looms above the dale. 
 Its base is lost among the clonds below. 
 
 Those clouds go up to meet the morning sun, 
 
 The landscape widens to the view, and then 
 The noble Hudson, with its wreathes fresh won 
 
 From fertile boughs, comes from its northern glen. 
 Here comfort dwells, peace reigns and plenty smiles ; 
 
 The cheerful farmer works his fertile fields, 
 A winter evening now and then beguiles 
 
 With story of the fruit his farming yields. 
 
 Here 3 too, has waved the Banner of the Stars, 
 
 And Freedom's sons have dared " to do or die," 
 When from the conflict, fierce and bloody Mars 
 
 Has sought in vain to make the heroes fly. 
 Here rusty bullets, human bones are found ; 
 
 Fractured skulls, and balls within them lying ; 
 Thy trophies, War ! are found upon the ground, 
 
 Remnants of the battle field and dying. 
 
 The peaceful farmer, resting from his toil, 
 
 With welcome greets the stranger to his home, 
 
 Points to the place where blood enriched the soil, 
 And bones are bleaching which no more will roam. 
 
INKLINGS. 321 
 
 " In yonder field. Gates with his little band 
 Prepared to watch with eagle eye the foe ; 
 
 Near by, that meadow where low is the land, 
 Burgoyne prepared to strike a deadly blow. 
 
 Here, Arnold like an uncaged tiger raves ; 
 
 There, active Frazer keeps his men in form, 
 And every volley sends unto their graves, 
 
 Scores who no more can breast the iron storm. 
 Here, Morgan calls around his chosen host, 
 
 Few, but a host, for they were heroes all 5 
 Tells them that British valor long will boast 
 
 This bloody field, where Freemen nobly fall. 
 
 And now, he says, my brave men turn the tide, 
 
 You know your duty, let it well be done ; 
 This carnage fearful and this carnage wide, 
 
 Must cease ere sinks to rest the western sun. 
 The sequel of the fight you know full well, 
 
 For it is written on the brightest page 
 Of noble deeds, to make the bosom swell 
 
 With valor's pride, the glory of the age. 55 
 
 No war-clouds now are rolling o'er the field, 
 No shriek of anguish rends the air in vain, 
 
 No horse without a rider, with no shield 
 From war's dread scourge } now prances on the plain* 
 
322 INKLINGS. 
 
 The Past is sleeping with its mighty dead ; 
 
 May mildest zephyrs fan its slumbers sweet, 
 And never more may tyrants learn to dread 
 
 The welcome bold, with which stern Freemen greet ! 
 
CHAPTER XXII, 
 
 CLARENCE : 
 
 A TALE OF NEW-YORK, 
 
 Never will words express the praise 
 
 Due to the gallant band, 
 "Who cheer the weary with their lays, 
 
 "While in a pilgrim land. 
 To visit shrines, weep o'er the dust, 
 
 "Which once with wizard pen, 
 Could throw a charm around the bust 
 
 Reared to the fame of men, 
 Might solace give to him who weeps, 
 
 Disperse his mournful fears \ 
 For him who in the cold grave sleeps. 
 
 Vainly are shed the tears. 
 
324 INKLINGS. 
 
 A part of his immortal part. 
 Survives this mortal wreck ; 
 
 Death aimed a sure, but deathless dart. 
 While him the Muses deck. 
 
 Such thoughts as these passed through the active mind, 
 
 And slumbered in the bosom of one, pale 
 With anxious thought, who always was inclined 
 
 To pity, more than blame, the weak and frail. 
 He had been reading works of the great men 
 
 Who had quaffed deeply from the fount of song, 
 And lingered round the mount where human ken 
 
 Fair scene surveys, and hills the notes prolong. 
 He had been reading of fair stately groves, 
 
 Their mossy banks, the murmur of their streams, 
 Where wood-nymphs wander and take sweet repose, 
 
 Where through the boughs the daylight softened gleams. 
 He had caught splendid glimpses of the land 
 
 Where fairies dwell, had heard high Jove's decree, 
 And trembled round Olympus with the band, 
 
 Which from all other power may be free. 
 
 Round many inland streams and pleasant lakes, 
 Where the Six Nations held disputed sway, 
 
 And wild birds sported in the reeds and brakes, 
 Or sang their notes in some secluded bay, 
 
INKLINGS. 325 
 
 Unheard, excepting some lone forest son, 
 
 Who, in pursuit of game had wandered there, 
 And when the trophy of the chase was won, 
 
 Turned to his wigwam, free from every care, — 
 Round these same lakes and pleasant winding streams, 
 
 How great the change which time has wrought ! No more 
 The wild deer rises with day's early beams, 
 
 Shakes off the pearly dew, springs to its store 
 Of winter-green and moss and wild-wood flowers. 
 
 No more the tawny maiden seeks a glen, 
 Above, deep - woven into lovely bowers, 
 
 Where she may hear, far from the haunts of men. 
 
 The sturdy oak the woodman's ax brings low, 
 
 The prospect widens to the view around, 
 And while dark shades recede with every blow, 
 
 Green fields and plenty soon the vision bound. 
 One of these lakes, more lovely than the rest, 
 
 Has gently sloping shores and islands green, 
 Where Tenus might have wandered and been blest 
 
 With visions fair as she has often seen. 
 And when the winds did blow, the angry wave 
 
 Would mimic loud the ocean's angry roar, 
 Then in a little bay would calmly lave 
 
 The sand and pebbles on the winding shore, 
 While round, the fish-hawk watched its scaly prey, 
 
 And eagles soared, unmindful of the gale. 
 Here life passed like a gentle summer day, 
 
 With Clarence fair, the hero of the tale, 
 15 
 
326 INKLINGS. 
 
 When weary with his books and pleasant home, 
 
 How sweet to wander with his dog and gun, 
 About the fields, and in the woods to roam, 
 As free from care as yonder shining sun ! 
 He traces from the lake each little brook, 
 
 Through field and meadow to some upland tarn, 
 And then reposes in some quiet nook, 
 
 "Where Homer ? s nymphs might once have spun their yarn. 
 The partridge and the rabbit are the game 
 Which he pursues with varying success ; 
 His faithful Fido ; now and then to blame, 
 
 Between to praise, makes him a friend to bless, 
 Beside some bubbling fountain he reclines, 
 
 Where mossy bank spreads round a couch of ease, 
 And while no wayward thought his soul repines, 
 Pours forth his song to fountain, air and trees- 
 While birds their notes are singing, 
 Which through the woods are ringing* 
 
 My voice shall join the song \ 
 And gentle zephyrs sighing, 
 While birds above are flying, 
 Shall bear the notes along, 
 
 While water-falls are gushing, 
 And onward ever rushing, 
 With ceaseless music too; 
 
INKLINGS. 327 
 
 Who would not join the chorus 
 To heaven bending o'er us, 
 And pleasure try to woo ! 
 
 Away with dull to-morrow, 
 For it may bring some sorrow, 
 
 Unknown to all, to-day ; 
 Then while the sun is shining, 
 "Who, who would be repining ? 
 
 To-morrow may be gay. 
 
 To fields and woods is fleeting, 
 The summer time of greeting, 
 
 And autumn follows soon ; 
 Then while the air is wreathing 
 A song with every breathing, 
 
 Enjoy the happy boon ! 
 
 When the sun tints the western clouds with gold 
 
 And purple, changing to a thousand shades, 
 How welcome to the hunter is the fold 
 
 Of home, where the long day's fatigue soon fades 3 
 Like the last rays of the departing sun ! 
 
 Food, friends and home revive him, and again 
 The splendid trophy of the chase is won, 
 
 While he relates his ramble on the plain. 
 And when the stars shine out upon the night, 
 
 Repose succeeds the bustle of the day, 
 
328 INKLINGS. 
 
 And softened moon-beams throw a quiet light 
 On objects round, which have been seen to play, 
 
 And now are hushed in silence, how sweet then 
 Is balmy slumber ! Then the spirit land 
 
 Crowds on his vision, from each shady glen, 
 Forth issue shapes which fancy paints most grand. 
 
 And while he travels in the land of dreams, 
 
 How fact and fancy mingle in array ! 
 "What he has seen and heard, in memory gleams, 
 
 And fancy gilds it with some great display. 
 The hero of his waking thought, is seen 
 
 To stride majestic through an airy hall, 
 "With fairies dance upon some lovely green, 
 
 When night winds sigh, with sudden wound to fall. 
 As dews refresh the flowers of the field, 
 
 And add fresh fragrance to their odors sweet, 
 So slumbers fair, re-animate and yield 
 
 A vigor new, give wings to care's slow feet. 
 Hail, balmy slumber of the realm of night, 
 
 Unfabled Lethe of which poets sing ! 
 Long may thy peaceful sway o'er care and blight, 
 
 A fancied comfort to the humble bring ! 
 
 From him who upward once has fixed his eye, 
 Upon some hill or rugged mountain brow, 
 
 All care and danger in his pathway fly, 
 While he performs his sweetly cherished vow. 
 
INKLINGS. 329 
 
 The prospect widens to his onward view, 
 
 Until from lofty summit he surveys 
 The scene around, known only to a few. 
 
 Field after field in endless maze, displays 
 New beauties to the sight ; the distant plain 
 
 The herd is grazing ; here and there is seen 
 A cottage white, and round it fields of grain ; 
 
 And over all, a shade of varying green, 
 Disparted by a river's winding way, 
 
 On which he seems to see a painted sail, 
 So distant and uncertain is the ray 
 
 Borne to the vision through the gentle gale. 
 
 Thus to young Clarence seemed life's real scene, 
 
 While health and friends and competence abound ; 
 A golden sunshine seemed to intervene 
 
 And throw gay tints on every object round. 
 The care, the trouble and the strife of life, 
 
 Seemed better in the distance to the eye, 
 And the loud brawls with which the world is rife, 
 
 Sunk to a murmur or a low-breathed sigh. 
 He knew life must have its weary trouble, 
 
 While floating down its ever restless stream, 
 But thought it must be an empty bubble, 
 
 Which, ere it bursts, displays a rainbow gleam, 
 Hope whispered, the world is fair, if fleeting ; 
 
 He wished it so, and sang a cheerful lay, 
 To loved home a kind, responsive greeting, 
 
 For happy hours passed there on many a day. 
 
330 INKLINGS. 
 
 Home of my childhood, where the deep wild-wood 
 Has echoed a voice that was free from all care ; 
 
 Fair are thy bowers, fragrant the flowers 
 Exhaling their sweets on the fresh morning air ! 
 
 While the birds singing, their thanks are bringing, 
 For returning sunshine, for life and for love ; 
 
 My heart shall never, from their notes sever, 
 But around them fly always like a lone dove. 
 
 Home where the weary find nothing dreary. 
 
 "Where comfort smiles and where life friendship blesses ; 
 If care should beset, who then could forget 
 
 Life's pleasant morn and a mother's caresses I 
 
 Round it are clinging, while time is winging, 
 With the seasons its way, with them to return, 
 
 Hopes ever cherished, even when perished 
 
 The altar on which their sweet incense did burn. 
 
 Sweet home of my youth, where friendship and truth 
 Will love to revisit the scenes of the past ; 
 
 Never, never, from thee shall sever [last! 
 
 The thoughts which may slumber while life's sands may 
 
 When winds were fair and clouds were rarely seen, 
 And drooping willows on the verdant shore, 
 
INKLINGS, £31 
 
 With their rich tapestry and banks of green, 
 
 Were mirrored on its surface ; when no more 
 The murmur of the waves was heard around, 
 
 Xo more the lake seemed like a costly pearl 
 Rich set in emerald ; when birds abound 
 
 Upon its surface, and their constant whirl 
 And sportive motion, loud declare their joy — 
 
 Then Clarence rambles to the bay, and boat 
 Which there awaits him, splendid as a toy 
 
 Which on some pictured water loves to float ; 
 Unmoors the tiny boat, spreads the white sail, 
 
 And while he slowly moves over the bay, 
 Wooes Notiis, Zephyr, for a gentle gale 
 
 To speed him onward in his trackless way. 
 
 About a league from shore, some green isles shine, 
 
 A lovely cluster, where the stately tree, 
 The thick underwood and the creeping vine 
 
 Look out upon the water, bold and free. 
 The shores are gently sloping, and the land 
 
 Raised like some huge wave of the raging sea 
 And fastened there, wild, yet reposing, grand, 
 
 Looks the abode where exiles sigh to be. 
 To one of these, he guides his bonny boat, 
 
 Wavelets pursue each other in its course. 
 Until a little harbor not remote, 
 
 Opens to view, where free from all the force 
 Of angry winds, the boat may rest secure. 
 
332 INKLINGS. 
 
 Hither he turns the prow, speeds on with joy, 
 And with the prospect makes himself too sure 
 Of tasting bliss without one sad alloy. 
 
 How he first came there, is small worth to know; 
 
 He might have landed to procure some bait 
 To catch the fishes, where the gentle flow 
 
 Of waves enticed him many hours to wait 
 The result of his venture ; and he might 
 
 Have sought, to see this green and lovely isle, 
 So fair, inviting to the distant sight, 
 
 Where nature seemed to wear its sweetest smile. 
 The squirrel leaps from bough to leafy bough, 
 
 The startled rabbit pauses quick to hear, 
 Gay-plumaged birds upon the wing are now 
 
 Returning song for song, without one fear. 
 He listens to the music, and the note 
 
 Of dulcimer is borne upon the air ; 
 With the thousand voices mingling, which float, 
 
 And drown the thoughts of tantalizing care. 
 
 He hastens to a cottage through the grove, 
 
 Where Julia waits to greet him with a smile, 
 Where arm in arm they hope again to rove. 
 
 And cheer each other through a winding mile. 
 Grapes in thick clusters grow around the door, 
 
 And tropic fruit is raised with gentle care, 
 Comfort and plenty here have goodly store, 
 
 The maid, the flowers and the scene are fair. 
 
INKLINGS. 333 
 
 In converse sweet, they visit half the earth, 
 
 Re-people cities where the mouldering urn 
 Scarce tells the period of their ancient birth, 
 
 "Where in sad silence they to dust return; 
 And then to chase a shadow from his brow, 
 
 Takes her guitar, and with gentle finger, 
 Touches the strings, sings of a lover's vow, 
 
 While sweetness in all her tones may linger. 
 
 When stars on high are shining 
 And lovers' sighs are new, 
 
 Who then would be repining, 
 
 Or for himself designing 
 
 What never can be true ! 
 
 When birds to mates are singing, 
 Through all the leafy grove, 
 
 And on the air are ringing, 
 
 Their thanks which now are bringing 
 No thought of wish to rove ; 
 
 Why should the soul feel sadness, 
 
 Pine in its prison cell ! 
 When all around is gladness, 
 Without a touch of sadness, 
 
 From rock or hill or dell. 
 
 15* 
 
334 INKLINGS, 
 
 Life has its sunny morning, 
 
 All free from pain and care ; 
 And why should we be scorning 
 The floral train adorning 
 
 Life's pathway bright and fair ! 
 
 Forgetting thoughts of sorrow, 
 With hope loye still delights ; 
 
 Then think not of to-morrow, 
 
 From it no sadness borrow, 
 A present joy to blight ! 
 
 The sound still lingers on his ravished ear, 
 
 "When eager to beguile the passing time, 
 She leads him to a store, a treasure near, 
 
 The strange and antique, brought from every clime. 
 On one side of the long and spacious hall, 
 
 The cities of the east in order stand, 
 Opposed to this, even the solid wall 
 
 Seems burdened with strange products of the land. 
 Here Chinamen perform the juggler's charm. 
 
 While birds from summer isles sing their sweet lays. 
 There, grinning tigers which no more can harm, 
 
 Hang by a tooth, or stand erect for praise. 
 A Grecian beauty in a corner placed, 
 
 Lacks nothing but a breathing soul within, 
 While near a pirate, each by contrast graced, 
 
 Girdled with dirks, looks fair and false as sin. 
 
INKLINGS. 335 
 
 Insects and reptiles, many curious stones 
 
 From distant lands, were here preserved with care, 
 From monsters cf the deep, here were bones, 
 
 Each asking- from observing eye a share. 
 A man of noble mien and gentle life, 
 
 Owned the fair isle and plowed each narrow field, 
 He, with his lovely and confiding wife, 
 
 Made all around them some new comfort yield. 
 Fair Julia had been with them from a child 
 
 And never known the orphan's bitter tears, 
 Sedate in manner, and in feeling mild, 
 
 Time gently passed, all free from lonely fears. 
 She was their child, and they were parents kind. 
 
 To whom she looked for kindness and for love, 
 To every fault and folly always blind, 
 
 Where she could nestle like a weary dove. 
 
 Who would not leave ambition's rugged steep, 
 
 "Where cold winds whistle and where whirlwinds play, 
 Where disappointed hopes in silence weep 
 
 The lonely prospect in life's weary way, 
 And where success feeds on the silent tears 
 
 Forced from the orphan's writhing, bleeding heart, 
 For whom the world has lost its goading fears, 
 
 And smiles on earth no more can bliss impart ; 
 Who would not leave the laurel wreath of fafcne, 
 
 Forget to woo the Muses with his song, 
 
} INKLINGS. 
 
 Content to live and die without a name, 
 
 And think the present did him little wrong, 
 
 If he could live in scenes of bliss like these, 
 "With health and competence to cheer his life. 
 
 With friends around, to soothe him and to please, 
 And calm the anguish of the distant strife ! 
 
 When moon-beams kiss the water, and each star 
 
 Adds a mild luster to the night serene, 
 And time rolls onward in its azure car, 
 
 Though small the distance which may intervene, 
 The guest, the friend and lover takes his way, 
 
 With brief, kind words at parting, and he then 
 Treads on with haste to the secluded bay, 
 
 Fearing to wake some echo of the glen ; 
 With sail and oar pursues his onward course, 
 
 While island shadows quickly disappear, 
 Then moving forward with a gentler force, 
 
 While he approaches to his own home near, 
 Pours forth a flood of song upon the night, 
 
 Which starts the whippowil from its retreat, 
 And backward on the wave, rolls like the light 
 
 Of distant moon, which day will soon defeat. 
 
 Behind the western hills the sun has sunk to rest, 
 Now the stars are shining from regions of the blest, 
 The queen of night is ruling it must be confessed, 
 With a gentle splendor, like one who rules the best. 
 
INKLINGS. 337 
 
 My bony boat is rocking now upon the wave, 
 "Which soon the smooth pebbles upon the shore will lave ; 
 never may that gentle wave in madness rave 
 Around my bonny boat, when winds refuse to save ! 
 
 And when Neptune may move over the gentle lake. 
 In the breeze wave his locks and his old trident_shake, 
 May he no gentle naiad from her slumber wake. 
 Causing pleasant visions her slumber to forsake ! 
 
 When drooping eye-lids close, and happy visions bright 
 Are fading and returning with the breath of night, 
 Who knows but kindred spirits may then re-unite, 
 And roam in blissful regions of the mental sight ! 
 
 Now while the busy world has drowned its care in sleep, 
 And sorrow has forgotten its sad tears to weep, 
 And stars are imaged on the bosom of the deep, 
 Who could not, in the land of dreams, a harvest reap ? 
 
 My bonny Jboat will soon be moored safe in the bay, 
 To rock upon the wave when I have done my lay, 
 There safely to remain until return of day, 
 While I in dreams unite with those not far away. 
 
 To all the world a happy night, a pleasant dream, 
 Until the sun re-visits all with cheering beam ; 
 
338 
 
 INKLINGS. 
 
 And while we float, with wind and tide, on life's fair stream, 
 May hope's bright ray, far on the way before us gleam ! 
 
 From teachers, friends and books, Clarence had known 
 
 Life's great drama, but on the world's wide stage 
 Had never seen it acted ; time had flown 
 
 With too much pleasure in his early age, 
 For him to note more than his fancy drew 
 
 To please a summer day ; time passed away 
 Like shadows of the bird which o'er him flew 
 
 And in the pasture with the lamb did play ; 
 Or like the music of his native rill, 
 
 Now in silver tones, then in murmurs flung 
 To the breeze, which the vacant air may fill ; 
 
 And time was fair, even where shadows hung. 
 Lank, haggard want had never crossed his path, 
 
 And when the dirge of the departing year. 
 Wailed on the gale, or tempests winged with wrath, 
 
 Flew on their course, he felt secure from fear. 
 
 Manhood was written on his brow, his eye 
 
 Sparkled with quick perception, and his face 
 Was index to a heart where love might sigh, 
 
 And all its secret windings, fearless trace. 
 Parents persuaded, eager friends inclined 
 
 His fancy to the world, that he might know 
 Whatever could be added to th? mind 
 
 And on the manner gracefulness bestow. 
 
INKLINGS. 339 
 
 To see the people of his native land. 
 
 Its lofty mountains and its forests wild, 
 Its winding rivers, beautiful and grand, 
 
 And the wide prairie where the verdure smiled ; 
 To visit cities on the sounding shcre 
 
 Of hoarse old Ocean, and to hear the din 
 Of busy commerce, restless evermore ; 
 
 To see and hear, he sure might something win. 
 
 Sad is the parting scene ; a mother's tears, 
 
 A father's kind farewell, a neighbor's voice, 
 A thousand hopes now changed to sudden fears, 
 
 A smile, a tear, without control or choice, 
 Are graven on his mind ; and deeper yet, 
 
 The parting scene with her who was ever 
 Enshrined within his heart. Could he forget 
 
 The ties which nothing on earth could sever ! 
 Could he forget his early dream of bliss, 
 
 Of heaven, where she would be the peerless queen ! 
 Could he forget the rapture of that kiss, 
 
 "When they last parted in a bower of green ? 
 Time other change may bring, but in the heart 
 
 Which truly loves, change is a thought of scorn 3 
 And only lingers, that it may impart 
 
 New life to love, on each returning morn. 
 
 Eighteen summers had added to her face 
 
 Their bloom, and to her mind their treasured store. 
 
340 INKLINGS. 
 
 She was gentle, adorned with all the grace 
 
 Which to her sex belongs ; while from the shore 
 She gently glided in her bonny boat, 
 
 The floating swan scarce moved the water less, 
 And her clear notes upon the wave would float 
 
 Like dreams of music sent on earth to bless. 
 Often, when her thoughts were tinged with sadness, 
 
 A gentle word or gesture, or a smile, 
 Her spirit would seem to light with gladness, 
 
 All thoughts of sorrow from her to beguile. 
 Few try to cheer the hapless orphan's lot ; 
 
 The smile, the gentle word of one, no more 
 Is seen and heard, but is not yet forgot, 
 
 In her lone rambles on the island shore. 
 
 Who now will come to cheer me, 
 Who now will soon be near me, 
 
 Alone, alone ! 
 Who now will check the sighing, 
 And speed the time while flying ; 
 
 Not one, not one ! 
 
 Moments on wings so weary 
 Are flying, while so dreary 
 
 Is time, is time ! 
 had I wings to bear me 
 Where sorrow more might spare me, 
 
 A clime, a clime ! 
 
INKLINGS. 341 
 
 Now in the early morning, 
 When incense is adorning 
 
 The air, the air ; 
 Why should a maid be pining. 
 When all beyond defining, 
 
 Is fair, is fair ! 
 
 Love has its tie and token, 
 Which never can be broken 
 
 Again, again ; 
 Then why should youth or beauty 
 Forget what is a duty 
 
 So plain, so plain I 
 
 Still hoping and still waiting, 
 The future oft debating, 
 
 No more, no more ; 
 Doubts never more shall cheat me, 
 And of my hopes defeat me, 
 
 In store, in store ! 
 
 Week followed week, month into month did glide. 
 
 And still the traveler pursued his way, 
 The various places where he might abide, 
 
 Unknown, unnoted, as time passed away, 
 Save now and then, when hill, and plain, and fields 
 
 Or mountain pointing to the boundless sky, 
 
342 INKLINGS. 
 
 With sweet attraction some new pleasure yield, 
 
 And thoughts of home a moment may defy; 
 Or when the ocean on some rock-bound shore, 
 
 Restless, complaining as it rolls along, 
 Bears in its murmurs, heard forever more, 
 
 The key-note of a soul which suffers wrong ; 
 Or when the stars shine out upon the night, 
 
 Reminding him where he had been before. 
 And gazed upon them with serene delight, 
 
 The thought of which he sadly must deplore. 
 
 Bright as the bow which spans the summer storm, 
 
 Sweet as the incense of the dewy spring, 
 Fair as the fancy paints a lovely form, 
 
 Which queenly grace to all around may bring, — 
 So bright, sweet, fair, was every thought of home, 
 
 To him, who, once an exile from his friends, 
 Turned there the footsteps which no more may roam, 
 
 To seek the blessings friendship only sends. 
 The soft, smooth phrase of welcome, on his ear 
 
 Had not the welcome sound which there may dwell, 
 And find an echo in the heart ; the tear, 
 
 The glance, the sigh, he knew their language well. 
 The world had joys he did not wish to taste, 
 
 And sorrows, too, he did not wish to know ; 
 To him the world was all a barren waste, 
 
 Compared with home, where peaceful comforts flow. 
 
INKLINGS. 
 
 The gentle murmur of his native lake. 
 
 Strikes on his ear, he quickly turns his ere 
 Where one reposes who will not forsake. 
 
 Though all around should from his presence fly. 
 The white-winged boat soon skims along the wave, 
 
 And quickly turns to its accustomed place. 
 And Clarence, leaping where the waters lave 
 
 His feet upon the pebbles, with a face 
 Beaming with joy and hope, and eagle glance, 
 
 Pursues his narrow, leafy, winding way, 
 While half the green leaves in the wind may dance. 
 
 On that sweet morning in the month of May ; 
 Lingers a moment at the cottage door, 
 
 Enters with greeting as in former time, 
 Breathes with delight the balmy air of yore, 
 
 More fragrant far than any foreign clime, 
 
 Again they visit the fair, leafy grove, 
 
 Each lovely place where they had been before ? 
 Rehearse the past and gently onward rove, 
 
 While golden moments yet remain in store. 
 Fair Julia listens with a modest mien 
 
 To hear his travel's story ; he closes, 
 While tell-tale blushes on her face are seen, 
 
 And parted lips are like budding roses, 
 As summer clouds are painted with the light 
 
 Which falls upon them from the spacious sun, 
 
344 INKLINGS. 
 
 And changed to thrones with crimson curtains bright. 
 Where empires to the gazing eye are won, — 
 
 So hope, the future gilds with its array, 
 While faithful Julia lingers by his side, 
 
 On that most happy and eventful day. 
 
 When they returned, she an affianced bride. 
 
 Let the the floral wreath be brought, 
 And the peerless maid be sought, 
 
 Gently by his side, 
 Who now has vowed to cherish, 
 'Till life itself shall perish, 
 
 His sweet blooming bride. 
 
 Weave into her auburn hair, 
 Lilies white and roses fair, 
 
 And her glowing face 
 Shall rival them in sweetness, 
 While in its lovely neatness, 
 
 Care has left no trace. 
 
 Hail her welcome with a kiss, 
 Wish long life and earthly bliss 
 
 To be her fair lot ; 
 For sure the world is better, 
 For one who is no debtor, 
 
 To kindness forgot. 
 
INKLINGS. 345 
 
 To the bridegroom drink a healthy 
 That he long may live with wealth, 
 
 And bliss may allure 
 "With sweetness and with beauty, 
 Which love to cherish duty, 
 
 With life and heart pure. 
 
 May health and bliss attend them, 
 And angels kind defend them 
 
 From each wily snare, 
 While they travel together, 
 Throug storm and pleasant weather. 
 
 Regardless of care, 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "OH! TAKE THE HARP!" 
 
 I would not rudely touch the string 
 
 Which vibrates for another's ear, 
 Or one sad thought to memory bring, 
 
 Or o'er the future, one sad fear. 
 The Harp should tell of hope and love, 
 
 All noble passions of the soul, 
 Should linger round it like the dove 
 
 Of Noah's ark, when deep waves roll. 
 
 But when the harper feels the pain 
 Of fading memories on the heart, 
 
 "When in Hope's temple lay the slain 
 
 Which once a sunshine could impart,— 
 
INKLINGS. 347 
 
 A pensive gloom will sweep the strings 
 
 Which have been tuned to love's sweet lay. 
 
 And darkly tinge the thought which brings 
 The past along in its array. 
 
 I would not thoughtless touch the string 
 
 "Whose gentle tones may thrill the soul, 
 When master hand from it may fling 
 
 The sweetness it can not control. 
 But when along life's path afar. 
 
 Are seen sweet flowers blooming fair, 
 Though it may dim hope's morning star, 
 
 Let truth and duty both be there. 
 
 Were mine the power, as is the will, 
 
 To hush the discord and the strife, 
 With peace and love the world to fill, 
 
 And banish sorrow far from life. — 
 Then I would " take the Harp" and sing 
 
 Till echo wearied with the lay, 
 While Fancy on her gayest wing, 
 
 Was plumed for flight to endless day. 
 
348 INKLINGS. 
 
 TO HELEN. 
 
 You never yet have aimed a shaft 
 
 From Cupid's bow, at me, 
 Nor with the bonny poet craft 
 
 Have sent a verse to sea. 
 Which, like the cat the sailor took. 
 
 To catch the rats and mice, 
 —Fierce, plenty fierce in every look. 
 
 To fright them in a trice, — 
 Was taken to a far-off isle, 
 
 Where rats were large and strong, 
 And caught by them with subtile guile, 
 
 Their own days to prolong. 
 Well, let that pass, and Cupid too, 
 
 With his bow and quiver, 
 And jolly face, with which to woo 
 
 Hearts which he may shiver. 
 Suppose we try to be good friends, 
 
 And let the rest all go ; 
 The greatest blessing Heaven sends 
 
 To mortals here below. 
 
INKLINGS. 349 
 
 TO EMELIXE. 
 
 Fair maiden of the auburn hair 
 
 And beaming eye of heaven's blue, 
 Can verse or song make you more fair, 
 Relieve you from one present care? 
 Or knowledge give to you ? 
 
 Yet take this token from a friend, 
 
 Too frail memento long to last, 
 And wake the mind to times which blend 
 With pleasant thoughts which long will lend 
 A sunshine to the past. 
 
 Frail is the bark in which we sail 
 
 Over.life's fair and stormy sea ; 
 Sometimes, perchance, we feel the gale, 
 And then the wind will almost fail ; 
 Such, life must ever be. 
 
 When winds are mild, without his skill, 
 The bark glides easy in its course, 
 But when dark storms forebode some ill, 
 The anxious breast with danger fill, 
 We trust the pilot's force. 
 16 
 
350 INKLINGS. 
 
 Though wrecks are strown along the shore 
 
 And hidden rocks beneath the boat, 
 "We hope to come to port once more. 
 With every wish in goodly store. 
 To harbor safely float. 
 
 "What winds ma/y force us from the way 
 
 And grievous care on us bestow, 
 Rusting the heart with their delay. 
 Assuming o'er us all their sway, 
 Is not for us to know. 
 
 Yet we will hope, and hope the bestj. 
 Confiding in His ceaseless care ; 
 For storms obey His high behest I 
 Hope that we ever may be blest 
 And life be ever fair. 
 
 THE ANEMONE. 
 
 "While yet on hills and northern slopes, 
 The snow-bank may be seen, 
 
 Spring's early germ with cold wind copes 
 And dots the field with green. 
 
INKLINGS. 351 
 
 And in the woods the flower springs 
 To meet the sun's warm ray, 
 
 And freshness with its beauty brings. 
 To chase the hours away. 
 
 Fairest of all the floral train 
 
 "Which then the eye can meet, 
 
 Whose changing hues are not in vain, 
 Anemone we greet. 
 
 If "frailty" is its language true, 
 
 It likewise tells to me, 
 With pureness of the morning dew, 
 
 Where truth and love may be. 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 As standing on some verdant hill, 
 The weary trav'ler lingers still, 
 With pensive eje f 
 
52 INKLINGS. 
 
 To view the plain below, where lay 
 His journey through a changing day, 
 While twilight lingers round his way 
 And night-winds sigh ; 
 
 Thus I look back upon the past, 
 To skies which once were overcast 
 
 With no dark cloud ; 
 To brooks whose gushing music fell 
 In silver tones adown the dell ; 
 To storms which made its music swell, 
 
 And sweet as loud. 
 
 The lawn around him may be green, 
 Fair birds upon the boughs be seen, 
 
 He heeds them not : 
 The plain where once the sun shone bright 
 And touched his bosom with delight, 
 He yet can see, when all is night 
 
 Around his cot. 
 
 Let fickle Fortune frown or smile, 
 The past shall weariness beguile, 
 
 Disperse the gloom 
 Which clouds the path in which we stray 
 And turn its darkness into day, 
 With tear or smile still light the way 
 
 Unto the tomb. 
 
I1SKLINGS. 353 
 
 And when the chain which binds us here. 
 Shall free us from our present sphere. 
 
 May we not roam, 
 "Where kindred spirits love to meet, 
 
 h heart-felt smiles a welcome greet, 
 Where soul with soul mav mingle sweet 
 
 Around its home ? 
 
 CHE LADY AND BOUQUET. 
 
 How fair a wreath upon the brow, 
 This floral gift would make, 
 
 Where pink and rose are twining now, 
 Pure as the fresh snow-flake ! 
 
 Its fragrance sweet, a nosegay too, 
 
 Exhales upon the air ; 
 And while we breathe, it seems to woo 
 
 Our senses to the fair. 
 
354 INKLINGS. 
 
 It tells of gentleness and worth, 
 And woman's holy love, 
 
 In silent tones, unmixed with mirth ; 
 Sweet message of a dove ! 
 
 "Who would not wish that such a gem 
 Might never know decay 1 
 
 Who would not wish a diadem 
 Bestowed without delay ? 
 
 FOR A FRIEND IN SICKNESS. 
 
 Friend of my early days, and later years ! 
 
 Why droops the wing of fancy in its flight, 
 Which once could bear thee up above the fears 
 
 Which cloud the prospect of a starless night ? 
 Clouds vanish, and again upon the sight, 
 
 The stars return to greet us with a ray, 
 Which cheers, because we love the gentle light, 
 
 Far better than the glare of rising day, 
 Which, on the shadows of the night, still seems to play. 
 
INKLINGS. 355 
 
 Dear friends have gone before us to the land 
 
 Where love and beauty shall forever dwell ! 
 And while where they have been, we yet may stand, 
 
 And in us feel what mortal may not tell, 
 Crushed spirit listening to its own death knell. — ■ 
 
 Let us remember that a hand unseen 
 May beckon en ward to an unscathed dell, 
 
 Where bliss may sweetly smile in arbors green, 
 And hope, no more from disappointment, learn to glean. 
 
 Friend of my early days, friend of my youth ! 
 
 Few have your days been ; do you also find 
 That they are evil, that the young heart's truth 
 
 May feel a siroc 5 from the world to blind 
 Its untaught vision, that the very mind 
 
 May have its keenness dulled with pain and care, 
 And where confiding you have looked for kind 
 
 And true companions to assist and share, 
 Was perched the ceaseless-croaking raven of despair ? 
 
 Lean not too much on earth, a broken reed, 
 
 Which often has been known to pierce the hand 
 Which leans upon it ; let the present feed 
 
 But little on the past ; the blissful land, . 
 Where fragrant zephyrs are forever bland, 
 
 Is yet unknown ; and for the future, yield 
 To Him your trust 5 who only can command 
 
 Your hopes and fears, and who alone will shield 
 From temnest's wrath, the humble lily of the field. 
 
356 INKLINGS. 
 
 PRATT'S FALLS. 
 
 On the west Branch of Limestone Creek, in the 
 town of Pompey, Pratt's Falls are located. They are 
 more like a mountain gorge than a river cataract. 
 When the stream is large, the various little projec- 
 tions in the surface of the rocks, change the water 
 into a white foam in its descent ; but in the dry sea- 
 son, the water drops from the moss and smooth sur- 
 face of the rocks, or leaps in tiny rills from point to 
 point. The Falls are about the height of Niagara. 
 
 Nature is lovely in a thousand forms 
 
 Which she presents to man. The eye and ear 
 Perceive in sunshine and in changing storms, ■ 
 
 Something still left to please ; and when the cheer 
 Of sweet perfume follows the storm-wind near. 
 
 The smile is deeper than the frown before, 
 For joy is sweeter that is tinged with fear, 
 
 And we forget the tempest to deplore, 
 And hope on crippled wing, still tries again to soar. 
 
 "When vertic sun pours clown its melting rays, 
 The school-boy hastens to some lone retreat, 
 
INKLINGS. 357 
 
 Where cool shades invite ; there, long, summer days 
 
 Pass swiftly by, while meditation sweet 
 Pursues the hours retreating with winged feet. 
 
 Or eye turned upward gazes on the sky, 
 Where the hawk cleaves the air, until the fleet 
 
 And trusty wings have borne to clouds on high, 
 His spacious home, this monarch of the airy sky. 
 
 Then come the songs of birds to chase away 
 
 The fleeting moments, and the winding streams 
 Murmur between, their gentle roundelay, 
 
 Which soothes, exalts, refines the mind to dreams 
 Of bliss, of heaven, where on the vision gleams 
 
 The true and lovely ; then descend again, 
 To where the light which on the vision beams, 
 
 Is the reflection from an icy plain, 
 Where birds forget to sing their own sweet, native strain, 
 
 In ardent childhood, I have listened long 
 
 To wicked, Indian tales of blood which dare 
 Belief — have listened to Wyoming's song 
 
 Of savage warfare — have seen the red glare 
 On the bannered storm ; then, when all was fair, 
 
 Have turned to yonder Falls with childish glee, 
 Where curling mist the wind may gently bear, 
 
 And thought some Indian chief, I there might see. 
 Whose wigwam was below, and smoke ascended free. 
 16* 
 
358 INKLINGS. 
 
 Productive fields to labor now will yield: 
 
 A fair return, where you may lift the pall 
 Of seventy years, and see the forest shield 
 
 The red man's lonely hut, from storms which fall 
 Upon the sighing pines, his only hall, 
 
 And park where roam the native elk and deer— 
 The breastwork where the earth was made a wall, 
 
 To shield the warrior in the hour of fear — 
 And triumph dancing round the captive's lonely bier. 
 
 Like the swift arrow from the archer's bow, 
 
 Like the dim specter of a dream of night, 
 Or the swift flowing of the stream below, 
 
 Time passes on, and glides away from sight ; 
 But fancy halts, and with creative might, 
 
 Returns to youthful scenes of other times, 
 And throws around its own magician light, 
 
 "When cascades sung their sweetest, silver chimes, 
 And day-dreams mingled all, with fair, Elysian climes. 
 
 Through the wild forest and the tangled glen, 
 
 Where the breeze whispers, and the heart may learn 
 From nature's converse sweet, untaught by men — 
 
 Where Flora loves to bloom and seems to spurn 
 The hand of culture — where wild bush and fern 
 
 Alternate mingle, I have traveled far, 
 And listened to the song which would return 
 
 Upon the breeze, when there were none to mar 
 The scene, till glimmered through the trees, the evening star. 
 
INKLINGS. 359 
 
 And I have loved in gentle summer-time, 
 
 To roam around the Falls, increase my store 
 Of rural love, and hear the drowsy chime 
 
 "Which soothed the fever of my bosom's core, 
 And bathe my temples in the misty lore 
 
 Which seems to float through all the humid air ; 
 And grown familiar. I have loved them more, 
 
 Until with me. myself they seem to share, 
 And with them, fancy weaves bright visions of the fair. 
 
 FOR A FRIEND, AFTER A LONG ABSENCE. 
 
 Well met. old friend ! how fare you, now 1 
 Methinks a line is on your brow, 
 "Written since we have made a bow, 
 
 Long time ago ; 
 A line which registers a vow. 
 
 Is it not so ? 
 
 We often sung, in life's sweet May, 
 And rambled in the shade for play, 
 
360 INKLINGS. 
 
 And plucked the wild rose by the way, 
 
 "Without a thought. 
 That time would cloud our sunny day, 
 
 Or bring to naught. 
 
 Where have you been, so long a time ? 
 You have not been a making rhyme, 
 You must have traveled in some clime, 
 
 New things to see ; 
 Perhaps, like one without a dime 
 
 For you or me. 
 
 Ah well ! the dimes will roll down hill ! 
 So let them go, if go they will ; 
 An empty pocket, we will fill 
 
 With bread and cheese ; 
 And let the miser hold on still, 
 
 To dimes and fleas. 
 
 J too have changed ! well let it pass ! 
 All flesh is like the summer grass, 
 Which must be withered in a mass, 
 
 By Time's old scythe. 
 We could not feel, if we were brass, 
 
 And be thus blithe. 
 
 It does me good, to see and hear 
 An old friend to my bosom dear. 
 
INKLINGS. 361 
 
 One who has shared a hope and fear. 
 
 In younger days ; 
 Like to the light, when cloud is near. 
 
 Which round it plays. 
 
 THE UNION. 
 
 Once on a time, as stories tell. 
 
 While reading what had happened well, 
 
 And what sad accidents befell 
 
 Folks here and there, 
 In tones as clear as any bell 
 
 Hung in the air ; 
 
 One corner of the paper told, 
 
 In accents fair, and full, and bold, 
 
 And like the shepherd with his fold, 
 
 In friendship's guise, 
 Of cutting loose the bonds which hold 
 
 The States, as wise. 
 
 It said, our land was very great, 
 And had been destined by the fate 
 
362 INKLINGS. 
 
 Which doomed the greatest olden state, 
 
 To rule and fall ; 
 And spoke of strife which kindled hate 
 
 In kindred hall. 
 
 The North and South, the East and West, 
 Each was a country which was blest, 
 In its own way, with all the best 
 
 Which could be found ; 
 And to the other was a guest, 
 
 As such, was bound. 
 
 It told — I can not tell you all, 
 
 So many things, both great and small, 
 
 In accents smooth as those which fall 
 
 From Fancy's tongue ; 
 And varied as the mock-bird's call, 
 
 The trees among. 
 
 The feet, the hands, the head and heart, 
 All form a whole, yet each, a part, 
 With wit, not wisdom, and with art, 
 
 Might well complain, 
 When reckless spirits bring to mart, 
 
 Such vile disdain. 
 
 All men are brothers, and when man 
 Shall learn this mighty truth to scan, 
 
INKLINGS. 363 
 
 And one the other cease to ban, 
 
 Then peace will smile, 
 And plenty hunger's brow will fan, 
 
 And want beguile. 
 
 Peace, Union, Brotherhood, will cheer 
 Our onward course, from year to year, 
 Give us no cause a foe to fear, 
 
 And make us feel, 
 The Gordian knot which holds us near, 
 
 A common weal. 
 
 Unfurl our banner to the air, 
 Let Union be our motto fair, 
 "Within an Olive wreath, to share 
 
 With all mankind, 
 Peace and good will \ and let none dare 
 
 To think us blind. 
 
 Union, shall sing Atlantic wave, 
 And Allegany mount shall crave 
 The signal, till the Mammoth cave 
 
 Kepeat again, 
 Where plains the western rivers lave, 
 
 The same sweet strain. 
 
 Ozark shall listen, and then sing 
 The Union song, until the wing 
 
364 INKLINGS. 
 
 Of western wind shall onward bring. 
 
 To western wave ; 
 Pacific, then, her answer fling, 
 
 "When billows rave. 
 
 Isles of the sea shall hear the sound, 
 And all the lands where men abound, 
 Until the spacious earth around. 
 
 The chorus roll ; 
 And peace, good will, shall then be found, 
 
 From pole to pole. 
 
 ACROSTICAL SONNET. 
 
 May is that genial time of all the year, 
 
 In which fresh buds breathe sweetly on the air ; 
 
 So it may be with life, when without fear, 
 
 Sings Hope, the charmer, to the young and fair ; 
 
 And like the April rain, even the tear, 
 
 Now makes young Hope look fresh and free from care. 
 
 None may forget the spring-time of the heart, 
 
 Because young hopes, like flowers in the spring, 
 
 Can only once their fragrant sweets impart. 
 
INKLINGS. 365 
 
 0, who would not return again and bring, 
 With all that life has gathered on its way, 
 Love's early token, give them for one hour, 
 E'en as we bartered flowers in life's May^ 
 So give them all for childhood's rosy bower ! 
 
 THE PRESENT. 
 
 The past has fled on pinions fleet away, 
 
 And left the Present in its onward course 7 
 Which pressing on the future, will not stay, 
 
 But still glides onward with predestined force. 
 And holds the shadow of the coming day, 
 
 To guide us onward to its certain source ; 
 While we pursue, the Present with us flies, 
 
 The dim past lights our pathway with its sighs. 
 
 I had a dream last night, a fevered dream, 
 
 Of climbing steeps where shattered stair-ways led, 
 
 And guns above sent out a fitful gleam 
 
 Which made the pulse stand still, although there bled 
 
 No warrior stern ; and then a placid stream 
 Glided through gentle plains, and specters fled, 
 
366 INKLINGS. 
 
 When rung the friendly shout, or in the form 
 Of mist, floated and vanished on the storm. 
 
 Night passed, that dream is now a dream no more, 
 
 But gone forever with the shades of night ; 
 Its impress only has been left in store ; 
 
 The dream itself, borne onward in its flight, 
 Has safely landed on that waveless shore, 
 
 Where Darkness keeps its fledgelings from the light ; 
 And shades of night will not return again, 
 
 The midnight specters of that somber plain. 
 
 Over the future, fate has thrown a veil, 
 
 Through which, men often strain their eyes to see, 
 And think, perchance, that they can view a sail 
 
 Gliding with pleasure on a quiet sea ; 
 Remove the veil, and they perhaps will hail 
 
 A crew whose notes are destitute of glee ; 
 So thin the veil, that they themselves deceive, 
 
 The willing dupes of what they would believe. 
 
 The yellow sea-shore is a rope of sand, 
 
 Which binds the moaning ocean to its bed ; 
 Brittle, yet strong, is the resistless band, 
 
 From which subduing waves reluctant fled, 
 When He, their Ruler, marked upon the land, 
 
 And said, "thus far, here land and water wed;" 
 And the hoarse ocean yielded to His nod, 
 
 Whose will can scourge as with an iron rod. 
 
INKLINGS. 367 
 
 Time, like that rope of sand, binds all things here. 
 
 And we, while standing on the shore of time, 
 Should not forget to grasp what may be near, 
 
 "While looking forward to a happy clime, 
 And use the Present while the sky is clear, 
 
 To gather pearl or pebble for a rhyme ; 
 Or. if some nobler theme to us belong; 
 
 To twine the fadeless laurel for a song. 
 
 A DOGGEREL. 
 
 The title of this rhyme, to some may show 
 This, to others that ; but I do intend 
 
 To write on dogs ; and not to give a blow 
 To all the yelping race — heaven forefend ! 
 
 My verse shall with all canine virtues glow, 
 And from all base assaults, their fame defend, 
 
 That they may be abused, few will deny ; 
 
 And zeal should kindle, when oppressed ones cry. 
 
 Most dogs will bark, and some will likewise bite \ 
 
 That seems to be their way to earn their bread \ 
 And some are quarrelsome and love to fight, 
 
368 INKLINGS. 
 
 While wiser ones have sometimes turned and fled. 
 Which dog law might have branded as "not right f 
 
 But where one must have run, or stayed and blec 1 
 I would advise him sure to run away a 
 Then he migh live to fight another day. 
 
 It might be difficult to tell you all, 
 
 The many kinds of dogs which may be found ; 
 
 Such as the Watch Dog, which round stately hall, 
 Makes the night echo with his bark profound ; 
 
 And long-eared gentry which to sportsmen fall, 
 Such as in common language, we call Hound ; 
 
 Shepherd and Spaniel ; as we onward pass^ 
 
 The common Cur must mingle with the mass. 
 
 Dogs love their masters, likewise bread and meat ; 
 
 Sometimes they seem inclined themselves to help 
 Yet few are ever known their friends to cheat ; 
 
 Some dogs will run into the road and yelp, 
 As if they thought the thing were some great feat, 
 
 And often they get nicknamed, " a mean whelp f' 
 Men are so much like dogs, all love to bark, 
 And all hate noise, but more when it is dark. 
 
 There is a dog, which' from a pup I've known, 
 Whose name might well have headed this my rhyme, 
 
 But for a reason, which, when fairly shown, 
 
 Might make, you'll think, the difference of a dime. 
 
INKLINGS. 369 
 
 His name is Tiger. Has not fancy flown 
 
 Quick with his name to Bengal's prowling clime ? 
 Would you have headed this with such a name. 
 To fright a child, and chill a goodly dame ? 
 
 He is a good-sized dog, but what the breed 
 
 I know not. can not tell, unless he be 
 A mixture of all kinds to which the meed 
 
 Of praise was ever due, for surely he 
 Is a good dog ; and then how many feed 
 
 On most delicious crumbs, which should be free 
 To roam at large, and be the constant mark 
 Of every school-boy's arrow in the dark ! 
 
 This dog has once been mentioned by a friend, 
 
 In public print, not by his proper name, 
 But, t( a certain dog," such as one may send 
 
 Here and there at will, was named without blame, 
 As if it were not needful to defend 
 
 One whose whole life was yet unknown to shame. 
 More than a week from this, he would not bark 
 At common curs, or run out in the dark ! 
 
 Who ever saw a dog, in all his life, 
 
 Which thought pigs ears were not common plunder ? 
 Who ever saw a dog, when there was strife, 
 
 Which would not try to make one " knock under ? 5? 
 
370 INKLINGS. 
 
 Who never yet has seen a scolding wife 
 Eaise her digits with peculiar wonder. 
 To see a dog tread in some quiet spot. 
 And leave his foot-prints on the floor, a blot ? 
 
 What I am at, is this, dogs will be dogs 
 Until their nature changes ; not till then, 
 
 Can we expect them free from vice as logs 
 Which move not, for their very virtues ken 
 
 So far, they lead them rashly into bogs ; 
 They look so far to see the foxes' den, 
 
 They leap rashly into muddy places, 
 
 And shake the slime before neighbors' faces. 
 
 My dog said to me, when he was quite young, 
 "Just whistle, and I'll come to you my lad ;" 
 
 And often when I called him, has he hung 
 
 To catties' tails, which must have made them sad 
 
 To think of mischief ; and then he has flung 
 Himself upon me, of one token glad, 
 
 To show that he was right, and followed near. 
 
 Anxious to save me from one boding fear. 
 
 His tread is firm and stately, and his head 
 Erect sees far and snuffs the tainted air ; 
 
 His ears drink in the sound, when game has fled, 
 His quick leap bounds along so free from care, 
 
INKLINGS. 371 
 
 And his proud tail erect seems to have shed 
 
 A light upon his fame ; how very fair 
 And pleasant, to see the funny grinner 
 Leering just like any other sinner ! 
 
 One doggerel I have written, that is sure ; 
 
 Convince me of the sin, and you shall hear 
 Confessions, which I hope, might you allure 
 
 From all its kindred ; and you need not fear 
 To undertake it 5 for I do assure 
 
 All, friends, dogs, and foes, list and ye will hear ! 
 I do intend to leave all doggerel rhyme, 
 For those whose genius soars to such a clime. 
 
 THE MAIDEN'S PKAYER, 
 
 Father of Love, incline thine ear, 
 And listen to a maiden's prayer ! 
 
 Bless Father, Brothers, Sister dear ; 
 Let all, thy loving kindness share ! 
 
 May gentle rest refresh us all, 
 And hope still cheer us on our way ! 
 
372 INKLINGS. 
 
 From sin and sorrow, and their thrall. 
 Be Thou our guard, from day to day ! 
 
 FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 Incense for Hope's young shrine, 
 "When Fancy threw a wreath 
 
 Around that brow of thine ; — 
 All that I can bequeath ! 
 
 FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 Here you may often turn to see 
 A friendly record of the past, 
 
 And gentle wish which here may be, 
 May linger with you to the last. 
 
INKLINGS. 373 
 
 One good wish more, these lines will make, 
 
 That when your sky is overcast, 
 Your trust in Him may never shake. 
 
 Who ruleth well the wintry blase. 
 
 VALENTINE. 
 
 In summer time one pleasant day, 
 
 When busy bees were on the wing, 
 When roses with sunbeams did play. 
 
 And round their sweetest fragrance fling, — 
 Cupid was sleeping in the shade, 
 
 While gentle zephyrs fanned his face, 
 And then, by chance came through the glade, 
 
 A maiden, fair as lines can trace, 
 Who thought, in sportive mood, to try 
 
 The bow which on a rose-bush hung, 
 And quickly let an arrow fly, 
 
 Which to my bosom since has clung. 
 How came I there ? — There was a streanij 
 
 On whose sweet banks I oft reclined, 
 Till day sent back its farewell beam, 
 
 Where forest birds never repined. 
 17 
 
S74 INKLINGS. 
 
 There I, unseeru had seen the boy 
 
 Discharge an arrow here and there, 
 Careless of time, as if a toy. 
 
 Or bird above him in the air. 
 It ivas a wound made by mistake ! — 
 
 Suppose it was, should then the maid, 
 The bleeding, hapless youth forsake. 
 
 And let him die in forest glade ! 
 Come then, my darling, heal the wound 
 
 "Which you have made with Cupid's bow ; 
 Sighs should not mingle with the sound 
 
 Of birds, and bees, and stream below. 
 
 SONG OF THE RILL. 
 
 I have come from my highland home, 
 Freely oyer the land to roam, 
 
 And sing a song to cheer the heart. 
 "When the sun first gilds the mountains, 
 I leap from the sparkling fountains, 
 
 Pure pleasure and peace to impart. 
 
 I come from the gentle hill -side, 
 Where quiet time does onward glide, 
 
INKLINGS. 375 
 
 And dance with the music I bring. 
 I linger by the cottage door, 
 And brighten Trell the cottage floor. 
 
 And cheer with the song which I sing. 
 
 The rainbow gilds my sparkling brow, 
 To me men bring an ardent vow, 
 
 To cherish me with zealous care ; 
 And freely birds flit through the spray, 
 And perch upon a bow to say 
 
 The vesper hymn, which oft I share. 
 
 Man's heated brow I often lave, 
 
 His fevered heart does frequent crave 
 
 The cooling draught which I supply. 
 I cool his brow, I soothe his heart, 
 And sing a song all free from art, 
 
 To cheer him as I onward fly. 
 
 MOTTO FOE A LITERARY PAPER. 
 
 "When cold winds pipe their hoarser notes, 
 And in the air the snow-flake floats, 
 
376 INKLINGS. 
 
 When birds have flown where skies are warm. 
 And beasts are sheltered from the storm, — 
 We come to cheer the social hearth, 
 And flavor give to youthful mirth. 
 Perhaps sage counsel you may find, 
 If, to be grave, you are inclined. 
 Our object is, care to beguile ; 
 For pay, we only ask a smile. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CRICKET. 
 
 Two years have passed, yet I remember well, 
 The sorrow which my bosom then did swell, 
 When on the peaceful hearth a cricket sung, 
 As night around her sable shadows hung. 
 There was a sadness in the hour, which gave 
 A sadder hue to shadows from the grave 
 Of buried hopes, and o'er the past did glide 
 Dim specters dressed with melancholy pride, 
 And marched with stately tread around the room, 
 To cricket's music in the gathering gloom. 
 All then was still, and cattle in their dreams, 
 Roamed over clover fields by gentle streams ; 
 The bird was dreaming, near some bush or fern, 
 Of bugs and worms as morning did return ; 
 
INKLINGS. 377 
 
 Cats dreamed of mice, and dogs would give a growl, 
 "When prey, they fancied, sent them back a howl j 
 The spider wove a web to catch a fly, 
 "With transport saw its victim slowly die. 
 The stars with gentle luster clothed, that night, 
 The hemlock trees and stumps within the sight ; 
 The owl sometimes would give a dismal sound 
 .And make night echo with its voice profound, 
 And goblins lingered in the beech-trees' shade, 
 Or hid in corners of the nearest glade ; 
 Still on the hearth the cricket sung his song, 
 And silence seemed the last note to prolong, 
 Until his song was woven with the spell 
 Which fancy threw around that night so well. 
 Next morning, he was found upon the hearth, 
 As dead as any other clay of earth. 
 Some sudden shock deprived him of his breath, 
 Left him to moulder in the arms of death ; 
 But surely crickets will his fate deplore, 
 For that one song which he will sing no more ; 
 And I, while wiser men perhaps may laugh, 
 Will try to write the cricket's epitaph. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 Here lies a poor cricket all unknown to fame, 
 Whose life was a song without passion or blame ; 
 Who nibbled a crumb in a crack of the hearth, 
 And now has gone back to his old mother earth. 
 
378 INKLINGS. 
 
 SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Land of the mountain, dell and vale, 
 Dear to the freeman's heart ! 
 
 Thy praise borne on the western gale, 
 New pleasure will impart. 
 
 Long as the Alps shall rear their head, 
 
 Where icy glaciers hail 
 The hunter, where the chamois fled, 
 
 Above the vine-clad vale ; 
 
 So long will freemen call to mind 
 The mountain, hill and dell, 
 
 Where lived the noble, brave and kind, 
 The land of William Tell. 
 
 Long as the avalanche in wrath, 
 From mountain to the plain 
 
 Shall leap, destruction in its path, 
 Resistance all in vain ; 
 
 So long will men recall the Swiss, 
 When tyrants raise the rod ; 
 
 And they will tremble for their bliss, 
 As when the glaciers nod. 
 
INKLINGS. 379 
 
 Land of brave hearts, and homes made dear 
 
 By all the ties of earth ; 
 Still be thy children free from fear, 
 
 And peace around their hearth ! 
 
 ALAS ! MY BROTHER ! 
 
 Hushed in the dreamless slumber of the grave, 
 Is one loved voice, we shall not hear again. 
 
 Those cheerful tones, from care would often save 
 The mind oppressed with sorrow and with pain. 
 Alas, my Brother ! 
 
 One chair is vacant round the social hearth, 
 And friends will look in vain to see him there, 
 
 "Who once did welcome ; not again on earth, 
 "Will friendless stranger tell to him his care. 
 Alas, my Brother ! 
 
380 INKLINGS. 
 
 Morn's early beams will not return again, 
 To cheer the widow in her lonely way, 
 
 One who no more can feel another's pain, 
 Or greet with pleasure each returning day. 
 Alas, my Brother ! 
 
 The father's treasure now will climb the knee 
 JSTo more, to gain the fondly cherished kiss, 
 
 And then in rapture glide away to be 
 
 In slumber lost, with sweetest dreams of bliss. 
 Alas, my Brother ! 
 
 The strong man fainted in the arms of Death, 
 Whose chill embrace has left him but a clod, 
 
 And food for worms ; frail as the fleeting breath, 
 Is life. man, prepare to meet thy God ! 
 Alas, my Brother ! 
 
INKLINGS. 381 
 
 TO HOMER, THE POET. 
 
 Old Homer sung about the siege of Troy, 
 
 And Grecian heroes marshaled on the field. 
 With skill which must have been a source of joy 
 
 To warrior with his plume, and spear, and shield. 
 The gods, when on the plains the victors reeled, 
 
 So hard the contest, their assistance brought, 
 And as fate favored, made the battle yield 
 
 To those who humbly had protection sought ; 
 And Troy yet lives, although its walls have come to naught. 
 
 Young Homer, too, has sung his songs of late, 
 
 Not in the trumpet tones of him of old, 
 But lute-like notes, which, in the Empire State, 
 
 Are loved far more, yes, by a thousand fold ; 
 For here, while gently time has onward rolled, 
 
 Her sons have learned to love the peaceful hills 
 And quiet vales, where happiness untold 
 
 Dwells by the music of the silver rills ; 
 And rural life has bliss which all the bosom fills. 
 
 Still be thy motto " onward," farmer Boy ! 
 
 Plow deep thy furrows in the field of song, 
 Sow well the seed of truth, and love, and joy, 
 
 Smite the oppressor who would do a wrong! 
 
 17* 
 
382 INKLINGS. 
 
 Be bold, fear not, these hills will yet prolong 
 Those rural notes, when victors' dire alarms 
 
 Have ceased to please ! Then in the right be strong, 
 And cheer the working men with all the charms 
 Which Nature loves to throw around their well tilled farms. 
 
 The changing seasons have been sung by thee, 
 
 As we might see them pass before the eye ; 
 The meadow and the waving grain will be 
 
 Before us, when the gentle zephyrs sigh, 
 Sigh from a harp-string which is ever nigh 
 
 To those who listen ; and those merry bells 
 Can never be forgotten, if we try, 
 
 So sweet the rapture in the bosom swells ; 
 To think of former days 3 how much their music tells ! 
 
 On every hill Parnassian laurels grow, 
 
 The Muses' fountain glides from every spring, 
 And he alone, who has the power to know 
 
 And feel this truth, can to his bosom bring 
 Its cheering comfort ; then far from thee fling 
 
 Care's weary burden, let the future flow 
 In thought, fair as the dulcet streams which cling 
 
 To visions of the night, which sometimes glow 
 With rainbow hues, and sweetest melody bestow. 
 
INKLINGS. 383 
 
 Read how the minstrels formerly have sung. 
 
 And earned a welcome in some lordly hall ; 
 How knights and ladies on their accents hung, 
 
 As passion threw its robe around them all ; 
 And how the past came thronging at the call, 
 
 That wizard call, until the present time 
 Was by the past obscured, and in sweet thrall, 
 
 The passions, bound by magic of a rhyme, 
 Seemed free to rove in some far-off, Elysian clime. 
 
 Resume the Harp, young Bard ! or it may lose 
 
 Its tone and tension, and the mighty lay 
 Will not return, when you may fondly choose. 
 
 Twilight succeeds the fairest summer day, 
 And fancy's gilding will not always stay, 
 
 To court the passions and the Muses' theme. 
 The sunset splendors change to sober gray ; 
 
 How fair, yet fleeting, is the passing gleam 
 They throw upon the tranquil bosom of a stream ! 
 
 You are a neighbor, and a neighbor's son, 
 
 And younger brother you have been to me, 
 When to the school we wandered, and there won 
 
 Some children trophies. Can tongue tell how free 
 From care those days, when like the busy bee, 
 
 From childhood's flower we sipped the honey-dew, 
 And sober faces caught the general glee 
 
 Which our young sports around the circle threw, 
 And gay as birds of air, time on its pinions flew ? 
 
384 INKLINGS. 
 
 Those days have passed, and with them passed away. 
 
 Like sunbeams shining in the morning dew. 
 Those aspirations which in childhood stray 
 
 To worlds unknown, when all the nerves are new. 
 Time in its night, has left us but a few 
 
 Of those young comrades. Some have journied east, 
 Some west, and birds of evil omen flew, 
 
 To bring sad tidings, sad to us, at least ; 
 That some had gone to make vile worms a loathsome feast. 
 
 We will not mourn the seeming hapless fate 
 
 Which doomed them early to an unknown grave ; 
 But hope that death has proved to them a gate^ 
 
 Through which they have escaped from sorrow's wave, 
 Which might o'erwhelm. Who would not wish to save 
 
 The soul from sorrow, when dark hours are near, 
 And all the senses in cold Lethe lave, 
 
 If it would shield us from the hour of fear, 
 When friends seem to forsake, and all around is drear? 
 
 But to sad thoughts, adieu ! Friend Homer, sing 
 
 Those early days which you must love so well ! 
 And as the painters to the canvas bring 
 
 All that is lovely, nothing make to tell 
 A rude, unsightly landscape ; you should dwell 
 
 On scenes you loved, and leave regrets behind ; 
 Those little accidents which once befell, 
 
 Should mar no picture with a thought unkind ; 
 And to the follies of a friend, be always blind. 
 
INKLINGS. 385 
 
 If aught in this should seem unto you bold, 
 
 Please pardon grant, and freedom to a friend ! 
 If aught in this should seem unto you cold. 
 
 Good wishes with it you should surely blend ; 
 The cherished hope that fortune yet may send 
 
 Its favors choice, to cheer you in the way 
 Where truth and duty lead ! Let nothing rend 
 
 From you these priceless gems, or dim the ray 
 "Which they impart ; and now, once more, a long, good day ! 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S FIRST PATIENT, AND THE 
 GHOST. 
 
 There is a place which we will call 
 Noville,, because the people all, 
 Are neither short, nor very tall ; 
 
 And only few 
 Live there, in cottage or in hall, 
 
 Which man may view, 
 
386 INKLINGS. 
 
 The doctor, deacon, and the priest, 
 With more than half a score, at least, 
 Compose the number which can feast 
 
 Or entertain 
 The stranger and his weary beast, 
 
 While they remain. 
 
 Once with the doctor, lived a man, 
 Who, in his heart, had thought to ban 
 All other trades, and then to scan 
 
 The healing art ; 
 And oft he studied o'er some plan, 
 
 To play his part. 
 
 One day, a man came in great pain, 
 
 To see the doctor and explain, 
 
 How one old tooth had been the bane 
 
 Of all his bliss ; 
 And get him quickly to distrain, 
 
 For rent of this. 
 
 But courage cooled, as he drew near 
 
 The office, and when he did hear 
 
 The student say, there was some fear, 
 
 The doctor might 
 Remain away till night was here, 
 
 He felt delight. 
 
HSKLINGS. 387 
 
 But his delight soon had an end. 
 
 That single tooth from him did rend 
 
 All thoughts of bliss ; and he did blend 
 
 All thoughts of woe, 
 Which man to brother man can send, 
 
 "With this one foe. 
 
 And then in agony he cried, 
 
 u Tell me, young man, have you not tried 
 
 To pull a tooth?" which was denied j 
 
 Then rode away 
 The man who thought all did deride 
 
 His hapless day. 
 
 Ere long the student rode away, 
 One pleasant brown October day, 
 And coming where red-skins delay 
 
 Among the whites, 
 A drunken squaw found in the way, 
 
 With all her rights. 
 
 " Madam," he says, " what ails you now ? 
 You have a sober look, I vow !" 
 She put her hand up to her brow, 
 
 Then to her face, 
 To let him know with stately bow, 
 
 That was the place. 
 
388 INKLINGS. 
 
 " I see, I see, the toothache sure, 
 And in my pocket is the cure 
 For all the ills which you endure 5 
 
 And all the pain, 
 It quickly will from you allure, 
 
 And not in vain." 
 
 Then in his hand the iron shook, 
 And on his knee her head he took, 
 And with a scientific look, 
 
 He turned away ; 
 Which sent the tooth near to the brook 
 
 Which run that way. 
 
 She groaned, and raised unto the chin, 
 Her hand, and he exclaimed, " what sin, 
 To pull the wrong one I" but no din 
 
 Followed his care ; 
 And then he said, " I yet may win 
 
 The right one there." 
 
 Tooth after tooth came with a groan, 
 In that same, melancholy tone, 
 Until within her head, a bone, 
 
 Except the jaw, 
 Had not been left for her to moan, 
 
 And that was raw. 
 
INKLINGS. 389 
 
 " The right one now, must sure be out, 
 "Without the shadow of a doubt ; 
 And, Madam, you may have the gout, 
 
 I greatly fear, 
 Unless you cease to drink and flout,— 
 
 But now, good cheer !" 
 
 He onward rode, the moon shone bright^ 
 
 And threw a gentle silver light, 
 
 Hound field and wood, on left and right ? 
 
 As homeward bound, 
 The zephyrs whispered a good night, 
 
 To all around. 
 
 When near his home, he paused to see. 
 If aught in motion there might be, 
 And soon beheld a chance for glee 
 
 To roguish men ; 
 And gliding quick behind a tree ? 
 
 He waited then. 
 
 An old man there had rung the bell 
 At nine o'clock, which all might tell 
 The time of sleep, until he fell 
 
 And hurt him sore ; 
 His boy had clone, since that befell. 
 
 As he before. 
 
390 INKLINGS. 
 
 But, yesterday, a wicked knave 
 
 "Was safely placed in church-yard grave, 
 
 And youngster thought he might be brave, 
 
 Come back again, 
 And then unto his father gave 
 
 His thoughts of pain. 
 
 It was agreed, father should ride 
 Upon son's back, near church abide, 
 Until the son within should glide, 
 
 And pull the rope ; 
 And then return with hasty stride, 
 
 And homeward " slope." 
 
 That night, two rogues were stealing sheep ; 
 One staid around the church to peep, 
 Cracked nuts upon the steps, to keep 
 
 Himself awake; 
 And then he thought of plan most deep, 
 
 Some fun to make. 
 
 So putting on the parson's gown, 
 
 And with it, a terrific frown, 
 
 Which must have made him look the clown, 
 
 By light of day ; 
 From priestly altar, he came down, 
 
 To make essay. 
 
INKLINGS. 391 
 
 And coming to the open air, 
 
 He seemed his ghostship to a hair. 
 
 To minds which once have had a care 
 
 To see him out ; 
 And with his robe flowing so fair, 
 
 He whirled about ; 
 
 And shouting to his neighbor thief, 
 As if the man were surely deaf, 
 Cried, " is he fat ?" with solemn grief. 
 
 The cripple run, 
 Beyond the son's utmost belief, 
 
 Like shot from gun. 
 
 The student slowly rode along, 
 
 And thus his musing did prolong ; 
 
 K Those rascals well deserve the thong ; 
 
 How vile they act ! 
 This world is scarcely worth a song. 
 
 That is a f act I" 
 
392 INKLINGS. 
 
 KANDOM THOUGHTS. 
 
 Now Judah's king and Ahab, on the plain 
 
 Unfurled their banner to the Syrian foe, 
 After one prophet had foretold in vain. 
 
 Like sheep without a shepherd, even so 
 Should they flee on the mountains, and again 
 
 Eeturn without a master, from the blow 
 Which Syria on the rebel head should deal. 
 
 When war's dread note should fire each chieftain's zeal. 
 
 As on the field in battle's proud array, 
 
 Horseman and chariot with the bristling spear, 
 In serried rank, their untold power display, 
 
 The prophet's warning voice rings on his ear, 
 And royal robes are laid aside that day, 
 
 When Ahab's heart low whispers of its fear, 
 Then mounts his car, and with a dauntless hand, 
 
 Points his dread war-spear at a Syrian band. 
 
 The trumpet sounds, and onward to the fight, 
 The wheeling squadrons with brave hearts advance, 
 
 Pursue, retreat, and even in their flight, 
 One who before had lost perhaps a lance. 
 
 Drew at a venture then his bow, with might 
 He knew not, and the arrow flew to dance 
 
INKLINGS. 393 
 
 In Ahab's life-blood ; turn now, charioteer. 
 For he is wounded, take him to the rear. 
 
 That was a random shot, and yet swift flew 
 
 The arrow to fulfill what had been told, 
 And lie, who long had borne with Ahab, knew 
 
 Full well the nature of the warrior bold, 
 And as he guides the wind, directed true, 
 
 The arm and arrow of that warrior old ; 
 And the king fainted on the field and died, 
 
 At set of sun, with all his martial pride. 
 
 Words, flowing from the lips of brother man 
 
 In accents smooth as song of bird in spring, 
 May be like poisoned arrows, for they can 
 
 Pierce the soul, and their reptile venom fling 
 A death-hue o'er some hope or goodly plan, 
 
 Which would make death a bliss, if it could bring 
 A torpor to the sense which only knows, 
 
 That it more surely may its pains disclose. 
 
 Words are the dress of thought, and it is thought 
 Which gives to them their own intrinsic worth ; 
 Thought is the jewel which can not be bought 
 
 With trifling sound, though empty, wanton mirth- 
 May seek to barter it for less than naught— 
 The only offspring of a mortal birth, 
 
394 INKLINGS. 
 
 Which feels not the corroding touch of time. 
 But still lives on, in prose or lofty rhyme. 
 
 Man's hopes, desires, concealed within the heart, 
 
 Are fountains from which flow, corrupt or pure, 
 The thoughts and plans which pleasure may impart ; 
 
 And ardent zeal the reason may allure 
 To sell its products in the gilded mart 
 
 Where Fancy dwells, for trinkets which endure 
 Until a rainy day, then turn to brass, 
 
 For which they afterwards can only pass. 
 
 Hopes are, alas, too much like pleasant dreams 
 
 Of airy. castles in the realms of sleep, 
 When on the vision golden sunrise beams 
 
 And bathes the soul in the enchantment deep 
 Which it unfolds, while every object gleams 
 
 With joy. But the waking, when must weep 
 The wretch who finds, that on a desert shore 
 
 His hut is built, where loud the tempests roar ! 
 
 And why those dreams and wand'rings of the mind, 
 That bursting of the fetters of the soul, 
 
 When its clay prison is left far behind, 
 If not to point us forward to the goal, 
 
 Its destined home, where its Creator kind 
 Will let it bask while endless ages roll, 
 
INKLINGS. 395 
 
 In pleasures free from earthly dross and sin, 
 The strange pollution of its earthly kin 1 
 
 Who has not tasted of the cup of grief, 
 
 And felt that thorns grew in the path of life, 
 "When even this frail life, which is so brief. 
 
 Seemed long enough, with all its woe and strife ; 
 When hoodwinked Justice, like a statue deaf, 
 
 Seemed to become the calculating wife 
 Of cold Neglect, and sorrow's silent tear 
 
 Was the sole comfort which the heart could cheer 1 
 
 But sorrow has its lesson, and the grave, 
 
 The end of sighs and tears, of hopes betrayed, 
 In kindness, from a bitter pang may save 
 
 The soul when sinking, as some good delayed, 
 To coward, hateful breast, may change the brave ; 
 
 And the soul's purity, if once assayed, 
 Might prove a bitter source of endless pain, 
 
 To him who found its real worth so vain. 
 
 The first, low sound borne on the tattling air 
 From infant lips, is sorrow's humble wail. 
 
 The last, which lingers round the brow of care, 
 As time and sickness feeble age assail, 
 
 A groan, and man seems not designed to dare, 
 But to endure, seems not designed to rail ? 
 
396 INKLINGS. 
 
 But to submitj as best he may or can. 
 Unto the sorrow which he can not ban. 
 
 Pain has a meaning which all know full well. 
 
 Yet life is not all pain, sometimes we feel, 
 Like hermit in some solitary dell, 
 
 A ray of cheering sunshine, and we steal 
 A moment's joy, from grief which none may tell, 
 
 And know, that with its woe, life has its weal, 
 The bright ray flashing on a cloud of gloom, 
 
 Bright, though it may disclose a fearful doom. 
 
 Friendship may bless a humble, weary state, 
 
 As flowers add their sweetness to the field, 
 So it may linger round the gloom of fate, 
 
 And soothe the pains, from which it can not shield ; 
 Or like a fortress strong, protect the great 
 
 From storms which might destroy ; friendship may yield 
 A sovereign balm for every bitter woe, 
 
 From which it can not shield us, here below. 
 
 But to the Harp, farewell ! A weary note, 
 
 "Without complaint, has lingered round its string ; 
 Still on the breeze a broken tone may float, 
 
 "Which to a shattered string may seem to cling, 
 Like drowning men around a shivered boat, 
 
 Who to the breeze a sad farewell may fling. 
 My broken Harp, farewell ! To me were sweet, 
 
 The shattered tones which other ears must greet. 
 
INKLINGS. 397 
 
 THE ORPHAN'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 "Where the brook gently murmurs of the past, 
 
 As it flows onward to its destined home, 
 The hoarse, old ocean, which receives at last, 
 
 The little wand'rers from the hill that roam—* 
 Where the sweet maple shade invites to thought, 
 
 Free from the sultry sun's oppressive heat, 
 The green grass for my couch, the heart untaught. 
 Loves to return, the absent ones to greet ; 
 For I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more ! 
 
 The birds of air on their fleet pinions borne, 
 
 Send each to other their sweet songs of joy ; 
 How could the self-taught songster learn to mourn, 
 
 And its own pleasure quickly to destroy, 
 "While the air trembles with the note it bears, 
 
 So sweet the sound, and flagrant flowers fling 
 Their incense to fair warblers ! Why should cares 
 Destroy the pleasure which an hour may bring ? 
 But I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more! 
 
398 INKLINGS. 
 
 There was a time when summer shades were dear, 
 
 When the fair daisy in the scented field, 
 And the gay warbler with its song of cheer, 
 
 A childish rapture to the heart could yield ; 
 But shadows now brood over that fair time, 
 
 Its flowers are faded and its loved ones dead, 
 And its remembrance is a sunny clime, 
 From which my early footsteps long have fled. 
 Now I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more ! 
 
 My Mother, on whose bosom I did rest, 
 
 And learn in lisping accents to declare 
 The words which from those lovely lips were blest, 
 
 Seemed like my Mother, always good and fair, 
 And Father too, from whose reproving nod, 
 
 "With awe I shrunk, yet oft obtained his praise, 
 Have left me for that land, they say, where God 
 
 Dwells with delight and endless length of days ; 
 
 But I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more ! 
 
 There was a Sister, in whose cheerful face 
 I once could gaze as in a placid lake, 
 
 All gentle feelings written there could trace, 
 The fair reflection of my own would make ; 
 
INKLINGS. 399 
 
 She too has fled, they say, on seraph wings, 
 Where flowers fair forever are in bloom ; 
 But thought of her to me a sadness brings, 
 And throws around my sky a pensive gloom, 
 I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more ! 
 
 The household altar has been' broken down, 
 
 And Kuin] broods around the wreck there made, 
 And Desolation with forbidding frown, 
 
 Has changed the place into a sickly glade, 
 Where birds no more will chant the morning song, 
 
 And floral sweets no more perfume the air. 
 The winter ^of jny discontent is long, 
 
 Though flowers bloom in other places fair ; 
 And I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more I 
 
 Could I but give the orphan's heart a tongue, 
 And tell how much is buried in the grave, 
 
 When all that clusters round the soul, is wrung 
 By Death's rude hand away — how little, save 
 
400 INKLINGS. 
 
 The breath of life, is left, when friends so dear, 
 
 Hushed in the slumber of the last, long sleep, 
 Awake no more to hope or goading fear, 
 
 Then men would know what makes an orphan weep I 
 I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more ! 
 
 They say, if I am only good and kind, 
 
 And do my duty like a man, while here, 
 And to my follies am not always blind, 
 
 But day by day amend with sober fear, 
 I yet may see those loved ones, in a land 
 Fair as the fairest, brightest summer day. 
 The thought shall cheer me on to meet the band, 
 Now gone before, and this shall be my stay ; 
 But I am sad, 
 
 Loved ones return 
 To make me glad, 
 No more ! 
 
INKLINGS. 401 
 
 LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF MY SISTER, 
 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! the gentle dew, 
 Although unseen, is falling now: 
 
 And shades of night return a few 
 
 Who cling like phantoms round my brow. 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 
 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! the wild bird now 
 Has sung its song, and fled to rest 
 
 Beneath the shelter of a bough ; 
 
 To-morrow's light will make it blest 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 
 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! all free from pain 
 Which can not pierce the spirit now ; 
 
 Our loss is your eternal gain, 
 
 Death-damps no more can chill the brow, 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 
 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! while here I bow 
 Above the form which has been fair ; 
 
 Reposing in the cold grave now, 
 Is free from pain and free from care, 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 
 
402 INKLINGS. 
 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! the night is long. 
 But day will come to light the brow, 
 
 Disperse the sable, misty throng 
 Which hovers on the night-air now. 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 
 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! while gently now 
 I whisper a farewell to thee, 
 
 And spirits upward bear the vow 
 To meet thee where the blest may be. 
 Sleep, Sister, sleep ! 
 
 C 54 
 
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