TO A CONTEMPLATIVE MIND. 279 



haunts of men, and irritates and distracts the mind from the legitimate 



pursuits of science, or the cultivation of the extended and flowery 



fields of literature, is there altogether unknown ; the corroding cares 



of the commercial speculator never invade the peaceful abode; the 



petty broils and ephemeral ebullitions which so frequently occur on 



the vast theatre of active life are left far behind us ; and we feel, as 



we take up our temporary abode at a distance from the increasing 



cares which engross the attention of the busy multitude, that the mind 



acquires a pleasing quiescence which, in the debilitating pursuits of 



pleasure, the ardent soarings of ambition, or the more harassing and 



incessant demands of business, it can never hope to attain. To the 



man who is possessed of a heart tremblingly alive to every tender 



impulse, and deeply imbued with reverence to the supreme Dispenser 



of all things, and love to his fellow-creatures generally, such seclusion 



gives rise to the most agreeable feelings, and produces the most 



unalloyed felicity. Reared, perhaps, among the magnificence of the 



everlasting hills, he feels a sort of intimacy with their frowning 



summits, and views their varying aspects and the succession of the , 



changing seasons as traces of the power and bounty of that omniscient 



Being 



" Who rules the whirlwind and directs the storm." 



The rising verdure of spring, the waving luxuriance of summer, the 

 sweet but declining graces of autumn, and the wild grandeur and 

 magnificent frowns of winter, awaken in his bosom springs of gratitude 

 to the omnipotent Governor of the universe, which, in the giddiness 

 and frivolity of an inhabitant of a large city, are often sealed up for 

 ever. Not a cowslip or a primrose — the eldest daughters of the 

 spring — can start from its state of embryo, to ornament his path up 

 the rocky dell, and shed its perfume with each passing zephyr, not a 

 bud can expand, not a warbling chorister can raise its grateful matin 

 song, not a streaming meteor can shoot across the azure canopy above 

 him, without producing the most pleasing and lively emotions, and 

 elevating his thoughts to Him, the great source from whom emanates 

 all the beauty and harmony that are so profusely scattered around us. 



To the man whose days and years glide smoothly on along the rapid 

 yet almost imperceptibly-moving stream of time, and who can " feel 

 for the woes of another," in whatever garb that individual may 

 approach his presence ; whether in the costly and gaudy trappings of 



