102 THE JOURNEYMAN. 



It is a deeply characteristic trait that Hugh Miller 

 should, as a schoolboy, have been so conscious of his 

 genius as to feel himself empowered to spurn instruction, 

 and that, as an apprentice, a year or two after leaving 

 school, he should have already convinced himself of the 

 feeble vanity of the idea. 



Occasionally there is a vividness of conception in 

 these pieces, which presents the individual figure or pic- 

 ture in outline so distinct and colours so brilliant, that it 

 flashes in clear visibility upon the eye of the mind. 

 The raven in the following sketch is as palpably bodied 

 forth as Tennyson's wild hawk staring with his foot on 

 the prey. 



'Foulest of the birds of heaven, 

 O'er thee flaps the hungry raven ; 

 Hark ! his loud and piercing cry, 

 Pilgrim, hark ! that faint reply ; 

 Soon, on yonder rocky shore, 

 Shall he bathe his wing in gore, 

 Bathe each wing, while dives his beak 

 In a cold wave- beaten cheek ; 

 Cold, the fierce tides o'er it flowing ; 

 Cold, though now with life 'tis glowing.' 



A copy of verses ' written at the close of the year,' 

 is dated for us in two lines which occur in its most 

 mournful passage. 



' Shall ill indeed no more annoy ? 



Is life in truth a flowery plain ? 

 Ah, wherefore look for corning joy 



When all the past is black with pain ? 

 That strong- wing'd Spoiler oft I've seen 



Around that checkered circlet flee ; 

 (For, lo ! this weary world has been 



These eighteen years a home to me.) 

 Yes, I have seen him pass away 

 Slow o'er misfortune's gloomy day, 

 Stern joy seemed his when sorrow laid 

 Her cold hand on the sufferer's head ; 

 But ah ! when aught resembling peace 



