328 SEPTEMBER. 



was the burning exclamation of Milton's ago- 

 nized and indignant spirit, as he beheld those 

 sacred bulwarks of freedom for once violated 

 by the disturbing demons of the earth; and the 

 sound of his fiery and lamenting appeal to 

 Heaven will be echoed in every generous soul 

 to the end of time. 



Thanks be to God for mountains ! The variety 

 which they impart to the glorious bosom of 

 our planet were no small advantage ; the beauty 

 which they spread out to our vision in their 

 woods and waters ; their crags and slopes, their 

 clouds and atmospheric hues were a splendid 

 gift ; the sublimity which they pour into our 

 deepest souls from their majestic aspects; the 

 poetry which breathes from their streams, and 

 dells, and airy heights, from the sweet abodes, 

 the garbs and manners of their inhabitants, the 

 songs and legends which have awoke in them, 

 were a proud heritage to imaginative minds ; 

 but what are all these when the thought comes, 

 that without mountains the spirit of man must 

 have bowed to the brutal and the base, and 

 probably have sunk to the monotonous level of 

 the unvaried plain. 



When I turn my eyes upon the map of the 



