wilderness. The emotions of a traveller, wandering 
like Douglas — oftentimes alone, and far from the 
abode of civilization, surrounded by scenes of wild 
grandeur, may well be expressed in the language 
of the Poet: — 
Ye bright mosaics! that, with storied beauty, 
The floor of Nature’s temple tesselate. 
What nmuerous emblems of instructive duty 
Your forms create I 
’Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth. 
And tolls its perfume on the passing air, 
Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
A call to prayer. 
Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column 
Attest the feebleness of mortal hand. 
But to that fane, most catholic and solemn. 
Which God hath planned. 
To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder. 
Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; 
Its choir the winds and waves, — its organ thunder, — 
Its dome the sky. 
There, as in solitude and shade 1 wander. 
Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod, 
Awed by the silence, reverently ponder 
The ways of God, 
Y our voiceless lips, O flowers I are living preachers. 
Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book. 
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers 
PYom lonebest nook.. 
Here I, O God! in churchless lands remaining, 
P"ar from all voice of teachers and divines, 
PYil not to find, in flowers of thy ordaining. 
Priests, sermons, shrines. — H. Smith. 
Dot. Keg. 1831. 
