Idealities
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] IDEALITIES. BY CORINNE. PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1859. page: 0-3[View Page 0-3] MY friend has bid me write a book; A plot well chosen, only can he brook; Of pages four hundred or more, All closely written o'er and o'er. Ah! little, then, my friend can know How woman's fancies come and go; First from the heart into the brain, Then madly rushing through the heart again. Alas!. can I write such a book, And fill it well in every nook, When in my life I feel compression That binds my heart in strict repression? An aching heart brings palsied brain, And then I seek for thoughts in vain; Ah no, my friend, I cannot write While o'er my life falls such a blight. ? . page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] IDEALITIES. An BEpijroze in fte LNfe of lm (ranafatier MY darling grandfather--let the tender love and faithful recollection of a cherished child animate my pen in retracing some of the reminiscences of your eventful life. You, to whom I owe so much. You, whose en- thusiastic and generous impulses communi- cated to my early life a tinge of romance, and saved me from the chilling effects of surroundings painfully matter-of-fact and positive in their nature. Alas! revere d friend of my youth, in the fullness of age has death stilled the beatings of your noble heart. But even in the closing moments of 5 page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 IDEALITIESO an octogenarian existence, vividly did you often describe to me the events I shall now relate. The only son of an officer attached to the household of that most unfortunate woman and Queen, Marie Antoinette, Jean De Montrou, a youth of twenty, a witness to some of the 'first outhreaks of the French Revolution, fied in terror from Paris to America. The youth- ful "emigrd" landed in -safety, and crossing the Alleghany mountains, the poor exile only arrested his wandering steps upon the lovely banks of "la belle riviere." There, in the wilderness, surrounded by cruel and savage foes, clustered a few log-huts, inhabited by a small colony of French; many, like poor Jean, thu-s rudely transplanted from a city the climax of material civilization and intel- lectual life. Among the most respectable and influential 1i IDEALIThES. 7 members of this small and poor community was a man of science-a chemist. He was of middle age, of sprightly and agreeable man- ners, and possessed a warm and generous heart; His rude home was blessed with the dear companionship of a young and beautiful wife.- Dr. Villiers, strangely enough, had been an intimate friend, in Paris, of Jean's father. He welcomed the poor boy, with warmth and delight, to his home, and insisted that he should remain with him. It was a gleam of blessed sunshine to Jean. The Doctor was always cheerful. Eulalie, his pretty wife, only a few years older than Jean, cheered and consoled him with the sympathy and affection of a sister. Nor was the happiness of this secluded home incomplete; a lovely child-God's best and most precious boon-' was theirs,--a member of this happy family. The turbulence of Paris was no longer la- mented by Jean. page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 IDEALITIES. The full glory of October crowned the majestic forests of the West, when first he knew them. What gorgeous fancy of the Old World can fully have pictured them! Can words paint upon the vision the varied vistas of forest trees, corrus- cating in their approaching death of leaves the most brilliant' hues; flinging up to God one jubilant exulting cry of glory, then meekly falling upon the lap of earth to wither and to die? What emblems of hu- man glory and its decline The graceful deer repose in the ravines; the antlered buck form a group; and lower down, apart and more retired, graze the timid fawn and doe; now a buck approaches-the vete- ran of the herd. What swimming orbs of eyes! Can matter without soul be so lustrous? What a divine power is life! just the mere bunches of living fibres and ner- vousness of frame; such delicacy of sensa- IDEALITIES. 9 tion; you see them smell and stand in awe. If such is God's breathing upon the brute, how ecstatic the gift to us of the soul! We have the "'anima," that which creates, a part of the essence of the Divine Creator, infused; and yet we are a helpless creatioi. So high, so low; shall we be uplifted, or downtrodden, in the thought of what we are! So muses Jean, inebriated with these wondrous glimpses of Nature. Dr. Villiers was a man who loved study, and he would only have been too happy to occupy himself entirely in investigations similar to those he had pursued with ardor and under more favorable circumstances in Paris. Well, it suited the dreamy mood of Eulalie to listen to the doves, seated beneath the roof, coo softly, finding in their plaintive notes pure blendings with many accents of innocent baby prattle. Nor did page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 IDEALITIES. I the drear voices of the night overwhelm the timid heart of the young wife and mother in their rude log hut. Let the death-watch click its dreary warnings in the wall, every fall of its little hammer seeming to make more fast a coffin! let the melancholy owl hoot near! serene she rests, for love and peace--like joyous gleam of day to the lost wretch in a catacomb- irradiate her quiet life. But Dr. Villiers felt that all too rude and homely was his cabin for the gentle wife who shared its privations with him. He de- termined to make a mechanicaleffort to pro- cure the means to add to their comforts. With patient care, and nice skill and labor, he constructed a number of thermometers. The next perplexity was to find purchasers. There was no help for it. They must be taken to New Orleans. At that period the only mode of descend- ing the Ohio, and the rapid and dangerous IDEALITIES. " Mississippi, was in a frail keel-boat. The navigation was perilous, but more dangerous were the treacherous shores. Bold rocks, and bluffs of majesty; grand old forest trees, in- closed in the deadly mantle of the mistletoe, whose pale waxen berries formed rich, pearly coronals; tempting groves of the luscious paw-paw--all must be avoided; for wherever Nature said, stop and admire, or come and rest, there lurked the red man, with arrow pointed and tomahawk raised aloft, ready for the work of death. Yet Dr. Villiers considered it an impera- tive duty to attempt to dispose of the ther- mometers, upon which he had expended so much time, and so he embarked upon his long voyage. Eulahe was confided to the care of Jean, who had become even as a dear son to the chemist. A shadow rested upon the household. But young hearts, left in congenial intercourse, page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 IDEALITIES. do not wither and perish. Daily Jean worked in the pretty little garden of his friend; it was pleasant to arrange a bed of mignionette, which, placed directly under her low window, diffused its sweetness through the apartment; clusters of violets looked meekly up to heaven, yet laid so low and modest upon the earth,-beautiful em- blem of woman,-even hiding their choicest flowrets beneath protecting leaves, drooping, if perchance exposed to the ardent gaze of the insolent sun, but ever a full and fra- grant delight in the shades of life. A grape- vine reminded them of sunny France. The summer days seemed not too long; indeed they quickly fled, and the evenings were an enchantment. The little fort, built for protection against the savages, inclosed a square, one side bordered by the river; the remaining three, of huts. When the moonbeams kissed the water, it was safe IDEALITIES. 13 to stand upon the bank within this square, and watch the quivering stream. How en- trancing is moonlight! how strictly in uni- son with that sadness, that uncertain expec- tation which forms a portion of an ideal temperament! Ever rolling onward in mys- terious alternations of light and shadow, but ever in both undefined, like the longings of the soul, and man's destinies as a- pilgrim. Now she has lifted her full red orb above the waters, and a strong and solid bridge of light is thrown to the shore. Glorious path dreamed of by Mahomet! could one but walk,--and easy it seems,-surely the gar- den of Eden must open beyond. The gor- geous waters sparkle as if trembling from angels' tread. If such, and so ravishing, is "borrowed light," how radiant will be our impassive bodies when we bathe in beatific rays-in the pure uncreated Light which first said, "Let there be light." page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " IDEALITIES, i Jupiteris with the moon-so near the occul- tation that there is sweet wooing. And now this full, fair moon enters a dark cloud; the fixed, fiery, burning heart of the star falters not, but calmly follows. Such is woman's love, ready to bury itself in adversity's dark- est cloud, and share unfalteringly the for- tunes of the object beloved. And now the planet issues forth triumphant and slants her beams in benediction-an image of the blessed and benignant Mary, queen of heaven. The spring and summer were gone, and the early autumn was to bring back Doctor Villiers. The full time of expectation passed; a real grief awaited the young wife. Some \ "voyageiur," returning to the fort, gave a circumstantial account of the Doctor's death. He had fallen a victim to the severe bilious fevers of the South. Jean, too, was unhappy -her had lost a dear friend. - But the touch- ing sorrow and desolation of Euilalie quite IDEALITIES. 15 melted his heart. He must forget his own loss, and try to comfort her; it was simply a duty. Jean must be cheerful, and strive to infuse some brightness into the long win- ter evenings--once so consecrated by domes- tic quiet. Shrouded in darkness was the heart of 'Eulalie. She had lived in her sympathies and affections--tenderly cherished-now drooping and fainting. She totters be- neath the cross, and all her veins of life are clogged with sorrow. Nature strives to re- veal to her, as formerly, many glimpses of God's tender mercy. But even the innocent enjoyment of the beauties of creation is shrouded. The pure eye of the brightest star stirs no longer the depths of her being. Closed in death is the eye of love to reflect her joy. As the autumn dies into winter, her Wears bind with the falling leaves. She page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 IDEALITIES. embraces the disconsolate trees, for they sigh in unison with her wailings. They whisper to her-Our time of sadness has come-our glory has departed, and our glad- ness. Birds and insects made love amidst our branches, and we were happy in making others so. We wooed Nature, and she clothed us in a garb of loveliness. All is fading, and now we have cast off the sweet sympa- thies that fluttered in our boughs. So wrung from the sad hearted, do oft-repeated tears, dropping like falling foliage, leave a bare skeleton to struggle through the winter of life. No hope was left for Eulalie, and hope, like the rainbow, spans earth, touches heaven, but fades away bathed in tears. The last warm breath of the year, vouch- safed in the Indian summer, revives Eulalie. How delicious the bland air, the hazy atmos- phere, the intoxicating languor of nature, just preceding the dissolution of the year! For IDEALITIES. 17 a brief space of time the roses in Eulalie's garden again breathe their allelulias--sweet altar-flowers, beyond all others types of the Queen of Beauty! Eulalie plucks a bud all glistening with dew drops. The exterior leaves so chastely white, like folded angel wings-the inner heart, so gently, lovingly tinged, and such fragrance! Its sweetness aids her to bear the long wearisome day, when harassed and discouraged. She gazes into its folds, and receives in return its mys- tical caress. For speaks not the rose-bud to the pure and steadfast heart, giving rest and strength to throw off morbid fancies, and renew all earnest and good resolutions? The bleak air of winter, and the dark cold nights, succeed to the glories of autumn. Like a miserere chanted, are the solemn strains of weird-music creeping through the dismantled branches of desolate trees. Jean was ever untiring in the effort to 2 page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 IDFALITIES. cheer and console the mourner. And so, in- deed, as many months passed away, her sadness was gradually dispelled by the charm of so grateful a presence. Congenial in thought and soul, these young hearts had much in unison-many intuitions and sym- pathies forever unknown to common natures. Jean suffers a fearful conflict of emotions. He has discovered that the companionship of the widow of his friend is necessary to his happiness. For his high sense of honor, it seemed a treachery to love Eulalie-it was almost to rejoice in the death of his friend and benefactor! Nor yet could he resist such varied attractions. He strives to rea- son and recall the past of his life. Yes, he has left Paris-the wonderful climax of civi- lization-to search in primeval forests for the pale wild-flower--Eulalie-his wild-flower. Her love once gained; contentedly she reposes in the shadow of the noble tree, IDEALITIES. 19 asking no hot-house air for the expansion of each rare petal. Rich with intellectual cul- ture, her society cannot deaden, as the em- brace of the parasite, but she adds a sweet- ness in her dependence, like the wild rose. Worldly women are true parasites, because although they appear to adorn and beautify, with their gaudy covering of leaves, the stately trunk upon which they depend, yet noxious and chilling is their influence. But can Jean hope to gain the love of this true heart? He had witnessed the tenderness of her devotion to her husband. Then she was some years older than he; and could she-- would she, ever regard him as other than a brother? Harassed by such a complication of feeling, Jean becomes melancholy. Eula- lie sighs over the change. She rallies the forces of her soul, and strives to console the despondent youth, and devotes much time and thought in devising gentle means. But page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 IDEALITIES. the endeavor is of no avail. The influence of Jean's sadness is magnetic. Both again are sorrowful, and they sorrow for each other. Their tender glances have a mystic meaning which penetrates the heart. Words, common words, which everybody can care- lessly exchange, flash through brain and heart, and at last comes the clearer con- sciousness, the mutual confession, when the soul, shaping unconscious words, only makes of them the irresistible expression of that which they knew and felt before. Human life is fleeting, but not more so than human affections. :How transient, when the idol is of earth! And yet so short a time since the angel of death had cast his shadow over that future into which she had looked with radiant eyes. Her child had been an accessory to her happiness, but ever a-- secondary attachment. She had fancied "the memory" sacred, enshrined. Now, IDEALITIES. 21 oh vanity of human life! another idol is up- lifted, and Eulalie loves again--dearly, truly, entirely. She stands before God as -ready for all womanly self-sacrifice, for the object beloved. At first it had seemed to her that only did she direct the love for her lost hus- band heavenward, and gained another minis- tering spirit to lead her to the pure and holy. This religious impression had fortified her soul, but left her human heart very desolate. A greater congeniality than she now dis- covers could not exist, for it fills her heart entirely. She loves Jean as one- destined from all time to love her and make her happy. She has faith to believe that the "divinity which shapes" the course of men has given to them this impulsion. It is a sin not to be grateful, and Jean and Eulalie thank God, who in such mysterious ways has placed them together.- They have intuitions of each other's character, which, page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 IDEALITIES. like prophetic glimpses, discover all the inner life, and gives an entire perception of each other's tastes. But above, beyond all, so delicious is the fusion that love-love is the birth. Again does the glad earth wear the royal crown of summer, and our lovers with peace and joy revisit the beauteous woods. And thus, their hearts overflowing with tender- ness, they apostrophize surrounding objects: Dear birds and insects, I ween ye look for us! Gray rocks with patches of green, seeking to invest yourselves with freshness, but feeding only parasites, as the stony- hearted must, it is kindly to offer us repose! Tender green bushes, screening us beneath your peaceful shade! Wild glen, which re- ceives us in your gentle slope, where young breezes lie cradled the livelong day!--we salute you all! Would that a language could be invented replete with vowel sounds, -IDEALITIES. 23 sending into banishment all ugly consonants; then, uttering these harmonies, we would seek such woods as these, and add the wild rose, blooming without the thorn, and then thrill out our souls as the foolish birds do. Love lasts but a season with them,--with us it should be so perennial that we must needs find within our enchanted forest a "fountain of youth" to 1 -ve in-that warm hearts beat not too violently, incrusted by the snows of old age! Our lovers were poetic, and inno- cent as high-minded. Although the little community in which they lived recognized the report of Dr. Vil- liers' death as undoubted, and evidence suffi- cient to satisfy every one must be conclu- sive, yet Jean nobly resolved to obtain in person every possible trace of his friend's sad fate. The courageous youth determines to em- bark for New Orleans, as Dr. Villiers had page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 IDEALITIES. done, and returning with the circumstantial and certain facts of the manner of his death, claim the lovely Eulalie in marriage. With Christian resignation she recognizes the ne- cessity of such an attempt-indeed it was but a mutual thought with them. Jean departs in a boat similar to that in which her husband had left them. Ah! what painful suspense for the young life so bereft! To love as they love, and to be separated, is fearful. When, added to this misery, comes the desolation of silence-it is like being walled alive, shut out completely from the life-giving sun of her existence. Tortured, overwhelmed, with misgivings, what a sad period of trial! Sen- sitive as the dew-drop exhaled by morning light, through dreary hours of expectation what tones of mockery haunt that mild spirit!"Trust in God!" was her serene prayer; but Despair brooding near, tolled over her soul its mournful dirge-like notes, IDEALITIES. 25 and jeeringly exults: "What is your hap- piness, O mortal! what your hopes, in this ocean of human life? The, whole vast world is spread beneath one eye to regulate." Eulalie replies, in simple act of faith, "I believe, and I know that 'Eye' is omnipre- sent." Gazing into the depths of the blue sky, she seeks to elevate her soul to God, that never may she be blotted out of His re- membrance in eternity. Not long does she endure this ordeal of weary uncertainty. Only an interval of several weeks has elapsed, and she sits, in the twilight hour, oppressed by bat-like fancies. Suddenly the silence of her desolate home is broken by the sound of familiar steps, and Eulalie in mortal anguish receives the em- brace-not of her youthful lover-certainly of no ghost--but of her cruelly forgotten husband. How utterly abased she feels, to hear applied to her, in endearing accents of page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] -26 - IDEATTIES. great joy, those words of magic earnestness: ( My wife-! my own wife!" on the threshold of the cottage door. Pale, over-mastered by honest shame and contrition, stands Jean, as if awakening from a fevered dream. He had met his friend, while descending the Ohio, returning to his home and his idolized wife. Embraced as a beloved son by the man he'had injured, he had been forced, by his affectionate importunities, to turn back with him. "Dr. Villiers had been unsuccessful in New Orleans-in selling his thermometers. He 'then went to Havana, where he had been very sick of a, fever, and it was reported in New Orleans that he was dead. Slowly convalescing, for many months he remained too feeble to endure the rigors of the jour- ney home' And thus the long delay and the' "voyageur's" story of his death were ex- plained* the, . , a IDEALITIES. 27 Prone and wrecked was Eulalie in every pulse of soul, heart, and body! The whole world unrolls itself as a vain phantasm; things lose their substance and pass be- fore her ask illusions; in agonyshe bends, as if crushed by heaven's thunderbolt. But triumphant is her pure spirit; and short- lived is the struggle, when duty copflicts with passion. In supplicating attitude, like- Madeline of old, she confesses, sadly, all the treachery of her heart. My husband, you are too good to be de- ceived! Ever have I known you noble, full of high resolves, and above men in majesty of feeling. Commencing thus, she mournfully and truthfully narrates the story of her weak- ness; how, losing the true dignity of widow- hood, she had' so quickly ceased to mourn his loss and learned to love his friend. . She knows' herself absolved before High Heaven, when falls softly and caressingly her hus- page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 IDR^ATTIES. band's hands upon her silken tresses, in for- giveness and benediction. "God forever bless you, Eulalie, for the bright candor of your soul," replies the generous, man. Then clasping in his arms the-contrite Jean, he exclaims, "How I pity you, my poor friend, for truly you have lost a good wife." Dream from an Ear-ache, I AM a young widow. I trust this an- nouncement may arrest, as it probably will, the eye of some querulous bachelor or de- mure spinster. But even under the sinister glance of a congregation of such uhfortu- tunate beings, again I throw my gauntlet, and reiterate what must seem to them so indelicate an avowal for the public eye. Sincerely, earnestly, for several years,. have I deplored the losswhich even yet appears to me irreparable. As day succeeds day, the heavy hours are fraught with much of gloom and sadness to me; and I would once have supposed that every dear friend, even every casual acquaintance, would com- prehend at least something of the desolation 29 page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 IDEALITIES. of a young life so bereft, and pass lenient: judgment. Ah! not so. Am I sad? do my eyes bear traces of recent weeping? is my countenance pale? am I clothed for many seasons in dress of sadness? Mali- cious comments are only made. ," Pray, did you observe that young widow? How en- tirely she comprehends her style, and the art of being pensive; and how well she re- members that contrasts are charming "' Being naturally of a buoyant and sanguine temperament, I can, happily, at times throw off the weight of grief which so heavily oppresses me, and I am startled to hear, as in happy girlhood, tones- of clear ringing laughter bubble forth from a young and im- pulsive heart. Then quickly exclaim dis- approving ears--"How transitory is this world's affections! Widows do seem the happiest women in the land; and they cap- tivate by the very ' naivetC',of their gayety." IDEALITIES. 31 What shall I do? What can I do? I am a true woman; I have met with a real loss; a deep shadow rests on my soul. But I am in a truly unfortunate position: young, rich, graceful, if not really pretty; but beyond all, ( a widow-a widow!" and ,as such, a victim for the injustice of Society. To-night I shelter myself in my cozy arm- chair, in my little, old maid's room, beside a glowing fire; I draw the curtains close : green are these hangings, green and yellow, for even the sun, in his royal pleasure, peeps into my room through a jaundiced medium. I am nursing myself and my woes to-night. I have an ear-ache--dire consequence of the obstinacy of a foolish milliner, who could not be persuaded that a young widow ought not to wear the smallest hat which Fashion mockingly places upon the necks of her de- luded votaries. In the midst of many reve- ries, and under the soothing influence of a page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 IDEALITIES. hop poultice, the acute Spain I have suffered melts into a' dream--nrot a gentle dream-- not such a dream as fair maidens hope for, with wedding-cake under their pillows--not a dream of stratagems, such as the unpity- ing world might accuse me of,--but a dream instinct with bodily suffering, partaking of every throb of pain, and each pulsation con- veying to the brain some monstrous appre- hension. It'seems to me a piercing blast of wind is'blowing into my ear; it penetrates my head, and I seek to protect myself by placing little rolls of cotton within my ear, so intense is the cold. I press many rolls, as it were, into my head. Now the pain meets me under. a different aspect: my head feels so pressed, so closely packed, it must burst; my eyes are already starting from their sockets--those azure-tinted orbs whose every glance has been so rudely censured. IDEALITIESl. 383 With eagerness I seek to remove these terri- ble rolls of cotton which so oppress me. Piece after piece is' extracted, until I can no longer probe into my poor, aching head; yet something remains, and its presence inflicts- an agony which life cannot long sustain. Huge bells are tolling--ringing; fiendish voices clamor; my whole body seems an ill- tuned instrument; the nerves are being pulled like wires, and my teeth clatter clat- ter. Surely I must die, A " drowning man will catch at a straw." So, with a gleam of hope, and with a despairing effort, I catch at the end of the bit of cotton which remains in my thead, and which, pressing upon my brain, produces this anguish. Slowly, but firmly, I strive to extractit. Good God! it lies imbedded in my- head. I draw upon it; it is entangled in some fibrous substance which seems the root of life. But as it is I shall die; and I make an expiring effort, 8 page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] - 4W IDEALITIES. anid with convulsive tremors, such as might pervade a resuscitated corpse, I withdraw theiifatal particle, and attached to it a curi- ous, -shining globtlei It is not unlike the meeury of a' thermometer: it dilates and ex- pands in ;my hand; now it shrivels up and -lbecomes dull 9and lifeless. I am relieved of my pain;- my head is' clear; my heart is light; and I feel as if I were'invested with a freshness of life f or many years unknown "What is' "this tr anslucent substance?" I asked myself. My guardian angel solves the doubt. Viewless is the lovely vision to mortal eyes, but ears which hale been steeped,- as it were, in death, may hear. My child"' the melody replied, "you hold within your hand one of the mysteries of your being ; a part of that, spiritual essence wichtin habits within the casket of a mortal body: and iwhich, for most of Adam's race, IDEALITIES. 85 ever remains an indivisible existence; yet which has been, now and then, inthe history of ages, by the permission of an over-ruling Power, separated,in this world, from the rest of the soul. This boon is now offered to you: That which you clasp within your hand is the organ of recollection, distinct from that of memory, in the moulding of the human soul You are, and must be, throughimmutable de- crees, a free agent, and no part of' your im- mortal essence can be abstracted without your' own consent. If you will, to wash out your past life-'never to live but in the pre- sent, and revel in bright creations of the future; to have the shadow of the heart- sorrow you bear removed,--consign this par- ticle to me, and during your mortal life I will reserve it for you. The ancient hea- then dimly knew of this--a privilege but sel'dom accorded to man since: the -beginning of things. They embodied the idea in their page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] I?6DF iTE TIS. nythologyw -which is often a, type of much ,that- is :true and real, and -they framed-a vi- sion, of Lethe's stream, and happy bathers therein. , If you consign this subtile essence tol me, still memory remains to you,-.a purely. intellectual power, and not so intwined with your:moral being.: Memory will enable you to aceumulate knowledge, and store within its cells all that is: not connected with the his- ,.ryof your life and heart." .My guardian. spirit ceased its mysterious breatings, and, wondering, I stood. Rush- ig ,onthe wings of the past, hovering over my'soul, an mournfully sweeping a thou- sndiharp-sitrings, upheaving the depths :of passion in my heart, uprushing through my w ansf brain,.shapes into logic like this: I'd lose, my remembrance of sorrow, so al'ikeShiall I lose -all the sweet recollections of joy:,.ctihe whisperings, almost in;i child4 haald,of anidolized lover; the fond tones of -IDEALITIES. 37 a mother's voice, now hushed in death; troops of friends, whose dear images form galleries of bright pictures; the endearing and manly accents of a husband's voice; the sweet prattle of my boy's infantile efforts; HBow many images, pure, holy, like seraphic prayers, teaching me to hope, and trust, and have faith in God; making my cross all radiant, like jewels in the crown of the fu- ture! Oh blessed trials! chastenin'g, en- riching the soul; giving her wings, upon which she floats above all sordid contempla- tions, or folds around her, like a dove, peacefully seeking its nest; or, lark-like, soars aloft, with steady, piercing faith, to heaven. Shall all be faded? No, never shall I willingly part with the cherished re- membrance of so many heavenly mercies. Joyfully I embrace my cross, and so long as the loved, past is spared to me, I mourn not the unutterable miseries of the present, nor page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] "38 - IDEALITIES. the desolation which seems to overwhelm my-life in the clouded future. Young as I am, I seek with resignation to clasp the -chalice proffered to my quivering lips. Ah! c;an there be, in all its gloomy, bitter depths, aught of sweetness reserved for me? Sweet angel, can you tell me this? So exclaiming, I apply the wondrous globule to my ear; quickly, painlessly it melts away! And I awake the same little widow, but certainly more happy, for I am relieved of my Ear- ache. , * . . ' r! 7 - , - The Pauper. Old age and poverty advance With feeble limbs and tottering gait, To catch a momentary glance- Your pity to invoke, and charity await. So, steeped in sorrow, pinched with want, Years heaped on years, of weary wand'ring; Eyes dimmed with tears, so wan and gaunt ; Can such appeal be unavailing? We see the struggle now to bear the cross; Why see we not, in angel's hand- extended, The glorious crown, above all earthly dross- God's sweet award, when life is ended? 89 page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] SEATED beside my window, I hear a low tap at the door, and my attenuated washer- woman presentsherself. She looks as if in freshening* and renewing my garments, she had washed her life away. 'Dear lady, for charity's sweet sake, will you write a letter for me?" 7 "Write a letter for you, Margaret!--cer- tainly I will. And soon the modest re- quest is complied with. It is an effusion of an honest heart, whose warmth might shame the selfishness of many a pampered being. As I give it to my trembling Undine, tears of gratitude fall upon my hand, which she grasps and re- tspetfully kisses. She uses no word-only At , I IDEALITIES. 41 this delicate tribute of thanks. What lover's embrace-- the homage of passion-- could send such a thrill of joy! Tears of grati- tude, and for so small a favor! I gather them as a prayer, to offer up in place of my own unworthiness. Servants--the children of nature--are in this like little children, that they know, intuitively, who are their friends--who care for them and pity them. I hear glad voices in the garden, and turn from this reality, and the revery it induces, to my window. Children are, at play--how delicious are their illusions to me!-tumbling about in the grass; they pritend bathing in the ocean. Now they all shout out, "That was a big wave-we are swimming." Their fancies give them the happiness of reality. 4 page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] *., , Jl WHEN poetic fancies run in tremors from the brain to the fingers' ends, let us abroad to the country. The morning is glorious! The refreshing ,dews have fallen during the night. The earth is radiant in the light of a new day, and, like lovely infancy, exhales sweet incense to heaven. Life,- in manifold and wondrous shapes, surrounds us. How immense is its diffusion! Creation is indeed a boundless emanation of the Divine mind; but most touching are its glimpses of a Divine heart. The "busy hum" of myriads of insects greet me as I go onward to the grove in view-each feeble voice in mys- terious unison with Nature. The concerted harmony ever ascends. The thrilling melo- 4 2 . . ' IDEALITIES. A 43 dy of the birds form but another link. In the joys of eternity alone we shall hear the full accord of seraphic voices, outpoured in beatific light. As I approach the deeper shade-what legions of gnats! Shall I turn back? Ah! no; these; like the giant shapes in fairy tales, only guard enchanted castles-the vernal, vocal woods. The grove in view is an Arcadia, and shall this small swarm- ing company deprive me of so much enjoy- ment? Noble trees, I salute you! Noble trees, festooned with long, green moss, ad- mitting only struggling rays of the hot sun, to checker the velvet softness of the sward underneath. The pretty meadow lies beyond, car- peted with the wild strawherry and some fairy blossoms. One blue flower, nautilus shaped, with graceful streamers curling up- ward like- a snail, is undoubtedly the plea- page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " IDFATjTTIES. sure yacht of the Queen Gnat. I see dis- tinctly dotted small white specks for seats. This modest azure flower might lead a sin- ner to God's mercy seat. A graceful lake of water separates this grove and meadow from a cottage-home which meets my wish. Were it mine I would call it Heart's Desire, and there live on in peace. The place is exquisitely cho- sen. I wish I knew the occupants; I am sure I would like them-so quietly removed from the world. They are in affinity with Nature. I found myself whispering, in mea- sured words,-- I knew a cottage-home; Upon a verdant slope it stands- Where loving hearts aid willing hands, And neither care to roam. "Sweet, sweet home!" In such retire- ment a sensitive temperament attunes to all things true and good. Simple pleasures cul- IDEALITIES. 45 tivate the affections and expand the heart. How beautiful the slope on which this house is placed!, On one side is a fair meadow, over which are grazing dun-colored and black cows-one stands in the water; on the other side are woods. The lake, which forbids me a nearer ap- proach, is fresh water, although so near the sea, I thought it perchance an inlet. I have tasted it. On bended knees I have gazed in its pure sparkling waters. Every wave wears a crown of diamonds,-the heavens are mir- rored so true. As I take this water I pray that my heart may be pure from sin ever, ever, and reflect in its baptismal robe all- Divine inspirations. O God, pardon us and love us. page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] Meadow fyowes. I HAVE seen a pretty bay called Quan- tuck. I have gathered an exquisite collec- tion of flowers on its margin. I know not their names, but I speak of them as they impress me; so, mayhap, as I call them, they are unknown to others. I clasp in my hand the meadow pink, a pretty, purple, bell-shaped flower; yellow stars; white crests of flowers like waves leaping up; a curious yellow slipper-shaped flower, like a shoe a dainty Chinese beauty might have dropped in the grass, -I call it the "Cinderella." Cranberry vines with the fruit white, not yet turned to red; and .a corn-like daisy, a modest imitation of the pine cone. ' Strange similitudes meet us in Nature! " IDEALITIES. 47 May not the whisperings of the noble pine have fascinated strangely the humble daisy forming beneath its shade? Ever viewing heaven alone through those musical branches, its flower-life has expanded, as opens the deep fountains of the human heart, when blissful interchange of thought, gentle words, and -kind regards, imprint indellible traces. And so the little daisy has fashioned itself in a touching similitude of the hard, over-hanging pine cone. Ah! perchance this rude sub- stance may simply fall and crush out its sweet life. My poor daisy! I flush with joy when I think of all the flowers I saw--of the thousands there now-- looking up to heaven. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] - TDe aWoas00 HA APPY hour has been granted to me. The birds made the woods vocal, perched on the branches, hopping near me, singing 'all' the while; and I' said to them-Sing on, sweet birds! Come very near to me; I have love in my heart for you and for He who created you. I am your friend, and treach- ery abides not in me. The grasshoppers surround me.' How lively the sound of their numbers, so cheery in the sun! A locust sings, and its shrill voice is nervously ;sug- gestive of the rattlesnake. But the locust is innocently hymning its gratitude-charming me-for it makes use of all its powers before its Maker. Then, I hear the woodpecker tapping a tree, I cannot see him, but he 48 IDEALITIES. 49 must be close beside me, pecking the poor little worms out of the bark. Cruel wood- pecker, your flaunting aspect hides not your hard heart! I have found a famous nestling place for the pretty bright lady-bug, in the cold white folds of the- under-part of the mush- room, while the toad may sit upon the ugly speckled top. This gay lady has many a marble hall beneath. I have found her out, and said to her, laughing,--Come out, my fair lady; go home and mind your chil- dren, and don't stay perched up here so grand. Not even the mosquito is absent.-with rings of white encircling rich brown bodies; and the little sword, of sharpness that makes them so dreaded, is beautiful. I saw a spot of richest russet moss under a very green bush, and I thought, here is the seat of the Brownie Queen; and I said to my 5 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 ; IDRALITIES. mosquitoes--Dryads, dear, go to your queen under the bush; and they sharply answered-- Nay-ad-nai-ad. Alas! amidst all the life hee is a dead insect. It is a delicate green, with beautiful wings. How exactly like a leaf are they! jNo artist could have painted them so like-- only 6od. is I " The Winter oe WHAT is the life of an ideal temperament, contending against adverse influences, like? I fancy I see a rose in winter trying to bloom and be cheerful, to expand all its deli- cate-tinted leaves, and in fragrance to send a welcome incense to Heaven! The blight around is too great. The glare of snow chills the expanded heart; it cannot give the healthful warmth of the sun. The cold winds blight the delicate petals. Its sum of life is all too short to await the' genial and sympathizing air of spring. Happy roses, blooming in warm and fervent climates, there fostered and caressed, you attain the full maturity of your growth! THE END.
