dejection which every one must feel, who passes from an active life to one of inactivity, he must have a library.

I am not generally afraid of being seen; but having heard that students can tell country persons from their very looks, and not caring to come into contact with such prodigious scholars as I knew so great a college must be full of, I told Edward we would not walk up there until they should all be pretty well engaged in study, of which he said we could judge by the ringing of the bell. My notes, being taken in pencil, are a little dim here, so that though I was careful to put it down, I cannot determine whether the bell rang at eight or half past eight. Be that as it may, we entered the college yard a little after nine. I could not observe that my friend exhibited any change of countenance, though for myself I could not repress a certain feeling of awe, when I found I was actually treading on such ground. Those venerable buildings! I was always fond of antiquity. There is, however, a difference between what is antiquated and what is old; a difference which I confess I should not dislike, in this case, to see hid under a proper coat of paint.

'What geniuses,' thought I, as we walked toward the chapel, 'there must be in these buildings! And there comes one of them,' continued I, 'I know, by his looks,' as one of them stepped out of what they call North College.

Them what?' asked Edward.

'Geniuses,' said I; 'and I'll venture you, one of the first water. See what fire is in his eye!'

'Somewhat red,' replied my friend.

Though I had now and then come across a student in the country, yet as I had never before seen one in place, I thought it perfectly proper I should take note of him in my journal. To begin at the foundation. He had on a pair of delicate boots, single sole, most exquisitely turned at the toe - which he often looked at, as well as at his finely-shaped leg— with a heel about as large as a cent, and the highest I ever saw, except a pair worn by that splendidly-dressed negro that drove 'Squire B- up from New-York, to learn about my school. The pantaloons were of that choice color, neither white nor yet drab, which discovers the possessor to be a man of taste, with a perpendicular opening in front, which I should think must be much more convenient than the old-fashioned fall-pieces, and certainly more showy. The vest was of silk - the main color rather sombre, with white stripes crossing each other at right angles, and so far apart that there were only four squares on its entire front. coat was black, and, as Edward told me, was a prominent artizan's best fit. Next came a newly-reaped chin, a mouth and nose of the Grecian order, around which there played a slight touch of scorn, a delightful pair of whiskers, black bushy hair, eyes in accordance; the whole surmounted by a hat which Edward said was à la mode, a description for which I am none the wiser- for on looking into the dictionary, I find it means in the fashion, which I presume has been the case with many a hat which did not look like that. He carried a black cane, as large at one end as at the other, and was followed by two dogs; one was a hound, and the other had a couple of little grey eyes peeping from a bunch of curling, shaggy hair.

VOL. IX.

21

The

'He must be a vast scholar,' said I, in an under tone, when we had just passed him.

Why?' asked Ned, with a look which I knew he meant should be somewhat sarcastic.

'Because,' replied I, a little touched, 'it 's not more than an hour since the bell rang, and yet he's out already. Don't that show that he gets his lessons sooner than the rest of them? Beside,' says I, 'the Faculty would not let him dress so well, if he was a poor scholar.' 'The Faculty,' replied he, have nothing to do with that.'

'Don't they? That's strange ! But it 's plain he could not get time to make himself so neat, if he did n't get his lessons easy. Beside,' continued I, 'did you ever see a student carry a cane, and keep dogs, that was not a good scholar? One of the smartest of them all was last winter three months with the minister, where my school is. I heard that he was 'rusticating,' and becoming a little acquainted with him, I asked what that meant. He said that sometimes an uncommon scholar would do all his study for the term in the first three or four weeks, and that the Faculty would then permit him to go for the rest of the term into the country; and that this was called rustication. Now this same student carried just such a black cane, and had three dogs.'

Whether he was convinced, or did not hear the last part of my argument, I have never been quite certain. He made no reply, and looking at his watch, with a sober air, said we would take a turn or two in the city, and by that time our carriage would be ready. I know my friend's moods so well, that I can tell at a glance when he would be silent; so we walked on without saying a word. Though Ned does not disclose, even to his intimate friends, his most private matters, yet he had so often mentioned one or two streets, and with so strange an interest, that I had conjectured his last minutes in NewHaven would be spent in one of them. We had got by the Dominie's, and turned down Elm-street, he picking the fingers of his glove, and looking on the pavement, and I conjecturing which street after all- as I had heard him, first and last, mention three or four-lay uppermost in his mind, when he all at once broke silence, by saying that was a very pretty street, and we would turn up there, if I

liked.

Wherever you please,' said I; and as we passed down on the east side, I saw on a corner of the first house, Temple-street.'

A shady, pleasant street,' said I.

'Quite so, replied he.

'And must be full of charms to those who can frequent it.' A charming spot.'

And though the dwellings are not magnificent, yet they have that sort of air which one will see about the abodes of good families.' 'There are some first rate families along here,' was the response. 'I should dare say,' added I, 'some of these houses are well furnished.'

'Well enough, I suppose,' said he.

'You have yourself seen in some of them, I presume, choice pieces of household stuff."

Pshaw! Henry,' replied he, with a tint of the roseate spreading

over his features, 'what eternal nonsense! I thought you had run dry before now.'

Let me see,' said I, in a kind of half inquiring tone, when we were pretty well down, 'this is the street you have told me has many great men in it professors, theologians, and so on.'

We think them great.'

'Perhaps, with suitable effort, one might get a little divinity here.' My companion was too much taken up with himself to reply; for just then, passing a certain corner, his looks were suddenly turned earthward, and his color came and went.

'Have you dropped any thing?' asked I, in the friendliest tone I could command.

'Nothing.'

'Perhaps you are sick?'

'Not at all.'

Though we were now beyond the fatal spot, he would have gone on in silence, had I not been resolved to exorcise him from his state of enchantment. Turning short upon him, I asked if he had ever angled any in New-Haven. He said he had not. I had heard, I told him, that there were some very delightful fish here; and though I did not know whether they were often caught, yet I believed they were pretty apt to bite. He said he had never heard of it.

At any rate,' said I, taking another tack, there are fine birds here, if one could only catch and cage them. Though I am told,' continued I, 'they are almost always on the wing; and when they do light, are very difficult to hit; so that some of the greatest shots in the country have missed.'

He said he had never seen many birds there. I told him I had heard they had the most delightful plumage, and some of them could sing well.

There is a very pretty one, though rather small,' said I, pointing to a lovely little girl, of about sixteen, on the opposite corner.

I HAVE often, my son, spoken to you of the old homestead,' by which you of course know I do not mean your father's or your grandfather's, as neither of them ever had any such possession; but the old family place of your great grandfather, the fourth in a direct line from him who first brought our name from England, and planted it in Long Meadow, that noble town of one of the noblest states in the Union.

Imagine the two travellers your father, now drawing near the prime of life, and his friend, some years younger-slowly approaching the abode of our fathers. The grass, since we entered the Connecticut river valley, has been greener than during any previous part of our ride. The delightful aspect of the country, the occasional glimpses, for the last two miles, of the city, the calmness of a sunset hour, and the coolness of an occidental breeze, have laid to rest the literary and almost ambitious aspirings of one heart, and the boiling passions and torturing cares of another. 'Say what you will,' said my companion, the whole circle of human knowledge is as nothing to the boundless circle of universal truth. Why then this

eager pursuit of that which is so small a part of the whole? Why spend a life in the feverish pursuit of knowledge, which is every where limited and intersected by ignorance, and which perhaps may burst in full splendor unbidden upon us, on our entrance at the portals of an eternal state? What if I do understand the philosophy of that cloudy drapery that hangs along the western horizon? Does the sight therefore give me more pleasure, while unfathomable depths of wonders lie beyond? Vanity of vanities!' saith the preacher-vanity of vanities-all is vanity!'

'Ay,' said I, and if he shall say thus, whose pursuit has been after knowledge, how much more may he affirm it, who has formed himself from the first, a child of passion, the history of whose existence is the history of his feelings; feelings obstructed, impeded; at one time crushed by the iron foot of fate, at another trampled upon by scornful men? If such an one gain his object, what is there in it? Nothing! And if he gain it not, what a life of torture and folly is his? Yet if one, on his approach to manhood, find his fortunes so lowly, that it seems presumptuous to aim at the actions of great men; if his honest efforts are met with frowns, and his aspirings with ridicule, is it a weakness, or is it not, now and then to give way to his emotions, to spurn human kind, and live in a world of his own? And what a glorious world, often, is that of his own, when, withdrawing itself from external means of delight, the mind falls back upon its own resources, and rises and dwells in its bright ethereal habitation, above clouds and storms !'

I verily believe a silent twilight hour is a better teacher of true philosophy, than the lessons of the living, or the tomes of the dead.

THE BELOVED.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.

I THINK on thee, when the last glittering rays
From ocean gleam;

I think on thee, when the moon's glimmering gaze
Paints every stream.

I see thee on the distant way, the while
The dust appears:

At dead of night, when on the narrow stile
The wand'rer fears.

I hear thee, when with hollow roaring on
The wave has rush'd;

To list, in stilly woods, I oft have gone,
When all is hush'd.

I am with thee-be thou however far-
To me thou 'rt near;

The sun sinks down-soon lightens up each star-
Oh! wert thou here!

SUNRISE IN GREECE.

A DRAMATIC SCENE: FROM AN

UNFINISHED POEM.

A flower-garden belonging to the Temple of Diana, near Thebes, beyond which is a

high mountain.

Voices are heard welcoming the morn.

A VOICE IN THE AIR.

'AURORA, rise! the orient star
Waits to guide thy rosy car;
Milk-white steeds, a harness'd train,
Chafe, champing on their golden rein:
Apollo comes in royal state,
Marvelling at th' unopened gate,
Where with onward-beckoning fingers,
The vernal hour impatient lingers :
Rise and wrap a crimson vest
Round thy life-awakening breast;
Backward fold the starry lawn*
O'er thy ambrosial tresses drawn ;
Fling from thy feet the dripping dew,
And, with thy flowery sandals new,
Take through the arching heaven thy way,
And smile to birth the young-eyed day.'

A VOICE FROM THE GARDEN.

'Aurora wakes, and lifts her head
From her cloud-encurtained bed;
Mists that o'er the fountain lay,
In silvery wreathings melt away;
Buds upon the bush are flowering,
Diamonds from the trees are showering,
Zephyrs midst the leaves are playing,
Honey-bees are out a-maying;

The fawn has startled from the shade,

Which, in the brook, his light form made;

The glad lark tirra-lirra sings,

As up and around he gaily springs :
Voices sweet from grass and spray
Mingle in his roundelay.'

A VOICE FROM THE MOUNTAIN,

With which gradually other voices join, 'till they form a chorus.
Aurora comes! Around her car

The welkin reddening, burns afar;
The mountain's brow is crowned with gold,
Saffron robes the woods enfold:
There Diana, huntress, chides
Apollo's tardy, slumbering guides;
Cheerly rousing from their dreams,
Her sylvan nymphs to hail his beams.
With quiver o'er her shoulder thrown,
And drapery oft by breezes blown,
The heavenly goddess heads the chase,
Her buskin'd feet begin the race.
The stag has left his mossy lair,
His nostrils snuff the inspiring air;
Hounds unleash'd are deeply baying,
Hoarse echo's hollow halls betraying,
Their dew-laps brush the bladed grass,
As, doubling round the rocky pass,
Their cry resounds: 'Away! away!
The antlered king shall turn to bay;
Far down the bosky glen he flew
Away! away!-halloo - halloo !'

* Aurora is always represented by the Greeks as throwing back her veil, to intimate that Night was left behind her.