JULY. 211 



back his soul into the freshness of his youth, amongst 

 attachments since withered by neglect, rendered 

 painful by absence, or broken by death ; amongst 

 dreams and aspirations which, even now that they 

 pronounce their own fallacy, are lovely. It is there 

 that he gazes upon the gorgeous sunset the evening 

 star following with its silvery lamp the fading day, 

 or the moon showering her pale lustre through the 

 balmy night air with a fancy that kindles and soars 

 into the heavens before him ; there, that we have all 

 felt the charm of woods and green fields, and solitary 

 boughs waving in the golden sunshine, or darkening 

 in the melancholy beauty of evening shadows. Who 

 has not thought how beautiful was the sight of a 

 village congregation, pouring out from their old gray 

 church on a summer day, and streaming off through 

 the quiet meadows, in all directions, to their homes ? 

 Or who that has visited Alpine scenery, has not 

 beheld with a poetic feeling the mountaineers come 

 winding down out of their romantic seclusions on a 

 Sabbath morning, pacing the solitary heath-tracks, 

 bounding with elastic step down the fern-clad dells, 

 or along the course of a riotous stream, as cheerful, 

 as picturesque, and yet as solemn as the scenes 

 around them ? 



Again I say, I love, field-paths, and stiles of all 

 species, ay, even the most inaccessible piece of 

 rustic erection ever set up in defiance of age, lazi- 

 ness, and obesity. How many scenes of frolic and 

 merry confusion have I seen at a clumsy stile! 

 What exclamations, and blushes, and fine eventual 



