390 Reflections hy a Resident of the Hill Side. [August, 



Poor Willie! your stay was brief! your day of misery short! — 

 "We passed out of the iiiclosure iu a sort of subdued unconscious- 

 ness, and most thoroughly imbued with a kind of soothing, softening 

 spirituality. It was impossible for us to think, at that hour, that we 

 had an enemy on earth, or that we did not have a universal love 

 for every being of God's creation. The tear drop had already moist- 

 ened our cheek — the heart was full — and with the lamented Langdon 

 made exclaim : 



" Alas! how soon shall pass away 



All that is bright and glorious here ! 

 For all on earth must soon decay — 



Its radiant beauties disappear." 



Our cream-colored horse seemed to partake of the gloom of his driver, 

 and plodded along, quite unnoticing those he met, or those that he 

 passed. We had scarcely become conscious of being on this mundane 

 sphere until having passed Bngliton and turned into Western Row. 

 Here the noisy omnibus, wagons, carts, and carriages were surging 

 to and fro; and even the unruly boys were collected in squads, 

 some playing marbles, and others " kicking up a dust," by the way- 

 side. And we thought, why should fliey not be permitted to indulge 

 in a little innocent amusement ! Soon they will be burdened with 

 the cares of manhood — will have the making of presidents and con- 

 ducting public affairs, when the present busy actors shall molder in 

 the grave. By the time we reached Fourth street, the ''weary sun had 

 made a golden set." The throng upon both street and side-walks, 

 had become immense. In the street were the dashins; steed and 

 fantastic rider — the polished carriage with gorgeous equipage rolling 

 over the pavement stones with accelerated speed. Homeward, too, the 

 draymen were plodding their weary way; and on the side-walks, among 

 the dense mass of pedestrians, could be observed squads of mechan- 

 ics and laborers, wending their way home, in anticipation of approach- 

 ing repose. 



"Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 

 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 

 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 

 The short and simple annals of the poor." 



The merchant was intent upon counting his gain, in passing through 

 the surging crowd. The pompous dandy, the conceited coxcomb, the 

 dashing belle, and fashionable beaux, were parading in their costly 

 habiliments, arrogating to themselves a vast consequence, little dream- 

 ing that in a few years at most they would be dead and forgotten ! 



