THE AUTHOR OF "DARTMOOR.'^ 85 



isting and unavoidable circumstances ; if he paints in 

 striking colours the e very-day lot of the labouring man, 

 he does not forget to give us also a redeeming and 

 bright view of his condition when contrasted with that 

 of his more wealthy brethren : if he contemplates the 

 state of such as the " Gaoler Business" holds with an 

 almost intermitting grasp, he also dwells upon the de- 

 light — the happiness which they experience when a 

 day of relaxation enables them to revel in the green 

 freshness of nature, and participate in a gladness which 

 is seldom felt by the " lord of the demesne." 



The following extracts are sufficient to prove the 

 truth of what has been advanced : — 



A HOLIDAY. 



"This sun-bright day 

 Is giv^n to Pleasure. Let not moralists 

 Decry the inspiring Holiday ! — the flight 

 From all the pain, the bustle of the world I 

 Let not the Cynic look with jaundic'd eye 

 On those enlivening hours, which, like the bursts 

 Of sunshine on the wayworn pilgrim's head, 

 Dispel the mental gloom. They are the salt 

 Of this our short existence ; they beguile 

 The rugged road of life ; they often brace 

 Anew the slackened nerves, refresh the brain, 

 Rouse up the spirits, and revive the heart ! 

 Let him not look with stern, reproving glance 

 On the snatch 'd joys of those poor prisoners, 

 Whom the harsh gaoler, Business, in his gripe 

 Fastens but too securely. Man is bound 

 By artificial ties, where cities rear 

 Their huge circumference ; but how he longs 

 To quit them for a season ; how he strives 

 Like some imprison'd bird that droops within 

 Its bars, to leave engirting ties behind. 

 And feel the breeze of Heaven upon his cheek, 

 The uncontaminated breeze, and rove 

 In the fresh fields, or skim the river's breast, 

 A joyous denizen of earth. To him 

 How grand the mountain's cloudy brow, — how sweet 

 How doubly sweet are sunny vales, how wave 

 The wanton woods, how freshly flow the streams. 

 Responsive to the song of morn and eve. 

 He sees a million beauties, which the sons 

 Of Leisure miss ; for they with heedless step, 



