Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to wag, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a beam of the rising sun that streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up as if nothing had been the

matter.

When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had gained half an hour in the night.

MORAL.

It is said by a celebrated modern writer,

66

"take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves." This is an admirable hint; and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be weary in well-doing," from the thought of having a great deal to do. The present is all we have to manage: the past is irrecoverable; the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we still need set but one step at a time, and this process continued would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours. Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or en

counter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burden, then flies, and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last; if one could be sustained, so cán another, and another.

Even in looking forward to a single day, the spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labours, the trials to temper and patience that may be expected. Now this is unjustly laying the burden of many thousand moments upon one. Let any one resolve to do right now, leaving then to do as it can, and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, he would never err. But the common error is,to resolve to act right tomorrow, or next time, but now, just this once, we must go on the same as ever.

It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. Thus life passes, with inany, in resolutions for the future, which the present never fulfils. It is not thus with those, who "by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, honour, and immortality :"---day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task, to which the requisite measure of time and strength is proportioned and thus, having worked while it was called day, they at length rest from their labours, and their works follow them."

Let us then, "whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might," recollecting, that now is the proper and the accepted time.

The Author of "Essays in Rhyme" will be recognized in

THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES,

In days of yore, as Gothic fable tells,

When learning dimly gleam'd from grated cells,
When wild Astrology's distorted eye
Shunn'd the fair field of true philosophy,

And wand'ring through the depths of mental night,
Sought dark predictions mid the worlds of light:---
When curious Alchemy, with puzzled brow,
Attempted things that Science laughs at now,
Losing the useful purpose she consults,

In vain chimeras and unknown results:

In those grave times there lived a reverend sage,
Whose wisdom shed its lustre on the age.
A monk he was, immured in cloister'd walls,
Where now the ivy'd ruin crumbling falls.
'Twas a profound seclusion that he chose;
The noisy world disturb'd not that repose:
The flow of murmuring waters, day by day,
And whistling winds, that forced their tardy way
Thro' reverend trees, of ages' growth, that made,
Around the holy pile, a deep monastic shade;
The chanted psalm, or solitary prayer,---

Such were the sounds that broke the silence there.

[blocks in formation]

'Twas here, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er,
In the depth of his cell with its stone-covered floor,
Resigning to thought his chimerical brain,

He formed the contrivance we now shall explain :
But whether by magic or alchemy's powers,
We know not, indeed 'tis no business of ours:
Perhaps it was only by patience and care,
At last that he brought his invention to bear.
In youth 'twas projected; but years stole away,
And ere 'twas complete he was wrinkled and grey.
But success is secure unless energy fails;

And at length he produced The Philosopher's Scales.

What were they?---you ask: you shall presently see.
These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea;
O no; for such properties wondrous had they,

That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh;
Together with articles small or immense,

From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense:
Nought was there so bulky, but there it could lay;
And nought so ethereal but there it would stay;
And nought so reluctant but in it must go;
All which some examples more clearly will show.

The first thing he tried was the head of Voltaire,
Which retain'd all the wit that had ever been there;
As a weight he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf,
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief;
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell,
As to bound like a ball, on the roof of the cell.

Next time he put in Alexander the Great,
With a garment that Dorcas had made---for a weight;
And tho' clad in armour from sandals to crown,
The hero rose up and the garment went down.

A long row of alms-houses, amply endow'd
By a well-esteemed pharisee, busy and proud,
Now loaded one scale, while the other was prest

By those mites the poor widow dropp'd into the chest :

Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce,

And down, down, the farthing's worth came with a bounce.

Again, he performed an experiment rare :

A monk, with austerities bleeding and bare,
Climbed into his scale; in the other was laid
The heart of our Howard, now partly decayed;

When he found, with surprise, that the whole of his brother
Weigh'd less, by some pounds, than this bit of the other.

By further experiments, (no matter how,)

He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough.
A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the scale,
Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail:
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear,
Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear.
A lord and a lady went up at full sail,
When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale.
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl,
Ten counsellors' wigs, full of powder and curl,

All heaped in one balance, and swinging from thence,
Weigh'd less than some atoms of candour and sense ;---
A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt,
Than one good potatoe just washed from the dirt;
Yet, not mountains of silver and gold would suffice,

One pearl to outweigh,---'twas the "pearl of great price."

At last the whole world was bowl'd in at the grate;
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight;
When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff,
Than it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof;
Whence, balanced in air, it ascended on high,
And sail'd up aloft---a balloon in the sky:
While the scale with the soul in, so mightily fell,
That it jerk'd the philosopher out of his cell.

MORAL.

Dear reader, if e'er self deception prevails,
We pray you to try The Philosopher's Scales:
But if they are lost in the ruins around,
Perhaps a good substitute thus may be found :---
Let judgment and conscience in circles be cut,
To which strings of thought may be carefully put :
Let these be made even with caution extreme,

And impartiality use for a beam:

Then bring those good actions which pride overrates,
And tear up your motives to serve for the weights.

6

We should have been tempted to transcribe the Complaint of the Dying Year,' a beautiful paper, had it not already been laid hold of by selectors and compilers, without being always fairly ascribed to the proper author.* Mr.Montgomery,in his Prose by a Poet, has written the life of a flower, and an exquisite piece of vegetable biography

it is; but Miss Taylor has here presented us the Life of a LookingGlass,' abounding with bright reflections. It is too long to transcribe. We must, however, make room for the entire paper entitled, 'How it strikes a stranger' it is, perhaps the most masterly in the collection.

HOW IT STRIKES A STRANGER.

In a remote period of antiquity, when the supernatural and the marvellous obtained a readier credence than now, it was fabled that a stranger of extraordinary appearance was observed pacing the streets of one of the magnificent cities of the east, remarking with an eye of intelligent curiosity every surrounding object. Several individuals gathering around him, questioned him concerning his country and his business; but they presently perceived that he was unacquainted with their language, and he soon discovered himself to be equally ignorant of the most common usages of society. At the same time, the dignity and intelligence of his air and demeanour forbade the idea of his being either a barbarian or a lunatic. When at length he understood by their signs, that they wished to be informed whence he came, he pointed with great significance to the sky; upon which the crowd, concluding him to be one of their deities, were proceeding to pay him divine honours: but be no sooner comprehended their design, than he rejected it with horror; and bending his knees and raising his hands towards heaven in the attitude of prayer, gave them to understand that he also was a worshipper of the powers above.

After a time, it is said, that the mysterious stranger accepted the hospitalities of one of the nobles of the city; under whose roof he applied himself with great diligence to the acquirement of the language, in which he made such surprising proficiency, that in a few days he was able to hold intelligent intercourse with those around him. The noble host now resolved to take an early opportunity of satisfying his curiosity respecting the country and quality of his guest: and upon his expressing this desire, the stranger assured him that he would answer his inquiries that evening after sunset. Accordingly, as night approached, he led him forth upon the balconies of the palace, which overlooked the wealthy and populous city. Innumerable lights from its busy streets and splendid palaces were now reflected in the dark bosom of its noble river; where stately vessels laden with rich merchandize from all parts of the known world, lay anchored in the port. This was a city in which the voice of the harp and the viol, and the sound of the millstone were continu

ally heard and craftsmen of all kinds of craft were there; and the light of a candle was seen in every dwelling; and the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride were heard there. The stranger mused awhile upon the glittering scene, and listentened to the confused murmur of mingling sounds. Then sudde ly raising his eyes to the starry firmament, he fixed them with an expressive gaze on the beautiful evening star which was just sinking behind a dark grove that surrounded one of the principal temples of the city. “Marvel not," said he to his host," that I am wont to gaze with fond affection on yonder silvery star. That was my home; yes, I was lately an inhabitant of that tranquil planet; from whence a vain curiosity has tempted me to wander. Often had I beheld with wondering admiration, this brilliant world of yours, ever one of the brightest gems of our firmament: and the ardent desire I had long felt to know something of its condition, was at length unexpectedly gratified. I received permission and power from above to traverse the mighty void, and to direct my course to this distant sphere. To that permission, however, one condition was annexed, to which my eagerness for the enterprize induced me hastily to consent; namely, that I must thenceforth remain an inhabitant of this strange earth, and undergo all the vicissitudes to which its natives are subject. Tell me, therefore, I pray you, what is the lot of man; and explain to me more fully than I yet understand, all that I hear and see around me.”

"Truly, Sir," replied the astonished noble, "although I am altogether unacquainted with the manners and customs, products and privileges of your country, yet, methinks I cannot but congratulate you on your arrival in our world; especially since it has been your good fortune to alight on a part of it affording such various sources of enjoyment as this our opulent and luxurious city. And be assured it will be my pride and pleasure to introduce you to all that is most worthy the attention of such a distinguished foreigner.

Our adventurer, accordingly, was presently initiated in those arts of luxury and pleasure which were there well understood. He was introduced by his obliging host, to their public games and festivals; to their

* It appears in the "Common-Place Book of Prose,” (a neat and tasteful little scrap-book, printed at Edinburgh in 1823,) with the name of the Rev. Dr. Henderson attached to it. The Editor should have abstained from giving the name of the supposed author of an anonymous paper without better information. [As it will be new to the American reader, the editors of the Atheneum have inserted it at the close of this article.]

theatrical diversions and convivial assemblies and in a short time he began to feel some relish for amusements, the meaning of which, at first, he could scarcely comprehend. The next lesson which it became desirable to impart to him, was the necessity of acquiring wealth as the only means of obtaining pleasure. A fact which was no sooner understood by the stranger, than he gratefully accepted the offer of his friendly host to place him in a situation in which he might amass riches. To this object he began to apply himself with diligence; and was becoming in some measure reconciled to the manners and customs of our planet, strangely as they differed from those of his own, when an incident occurred which gave an entirely new direction to his energies.

It was but a few weeks after his arrival on our earth, when, walking in the cool of the day with his friend in the outskirts of the city, his attention was arrested by the appearance of a spacious enclosure near which they passed; he inquired the use to which it was appropriated.

"It is," replied the nobleman, "a place of public interment."

"I do not understand you," said the stranger.

"It is the place," repeated his friend, "where we bury our dead."

"Excuse me, Sir," replied his companion, with some embarrassment, "I must trouble you to explain yourself yet further."

The nobleman repeated the information in still plainer terms.

"I am still at a loss to comprehend you perfectly," said the stranger, turning deadly pale. This must relate to something of which I was not only totally ignorant in my own world, but of which I have, as yet, bad no intimation in yours. I pray you, therefore, to satisfy my curiosity; for if I have any clue to your meaning, this, surely, is a matter of more mighty concernment than any to which you have hitherto directed

me.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

"My good friend," replied the nobleman, 'you must be indeed a novice amongst us, if you have yet to learn that we must all, sooner or later, submit to take our place in these dismal abodes; nor will I deny that it is one of the least desirable of the circumstances which appertain to our condition; for which reason it is a matter rarely referred to in polished society, and this accounts for your being hitherto uninformed on the subject. But truly, Sir, if the inhabitants of the place whence you came are not liable to any similar misfortune, I advise you to be take yourself back again with all speed; for be assured there is no escape here; nor could I guarantee your safety for a single hour."

"Alas," replied the adventurer, "I must submit to the conditions of my enterprize; of which, till now, 1 little understood the import. But explain to me, I beseech you, something more of the nature and consequences of this wondrous metamorphosis, and tell me at what period it most commonly happens

to man."

While he thus spoke, his voice faultered, and his whole frame shook violently; his countenance was pale as death, and a cold dew stood in large drops upon his forehead. By this time his companion, finding the discourse becoming more serious than was

agreeable, declared that he must refer him to the priests for further information; this subject being very much out of his province. "How!" exclaimed the stranger, then

I cannot have understood you ;---do the priests only die ?---are not you to die also?" His friend, evading these questions, hastily conducted his importunate companion to one of their magnificent temples, where he gladly consigned him to the instructions of the priesthood.

The emotion which the stranger had betrayed when he received the first idea of death, was yet slight in comparison with that which he experienced as soon as he ga thered from the discourses of the priests, some notion of immortality, and of the alternative of happiness or misery in a future state. But this agony of mind was exchanged for transport when be learned, that, by the performance of certain conditions before death, the state of happiness might be secured. His eagerness to learn the nature of these terms, excited the surprise and even the contempt of his sacred teachers. They advised him to remain satisfied for the present with the instructions he had received, and to defer the remainder of the discussion till the morrow.

"How," exclaimed the novice, "say you not that death may come at any hour?---may it not then come this hour?---and what if it should come before I have performed these conditions! Oh! withhold not this excellent knowledge from me a single moment !"

bot

The priests, suppressing a smile at his simplicity, then proceeded to explain their Theology to their attentive auditor: who shall describe the ecstacy of his happiness when he was given to understand, that the required conditions were, generally, of easy and pleasant performance; and that the occasional difficulties or inconveniences which might attend them, would entirely cease with the short term of bis earthly existence. "If, then, I understand you rightly," said he to his instructors," this event which you call death, and which seems in itself strangely terrible, is most desirable and blissful. What a favour is this which is granted to me, in being sent to inhabit a planet in which I can die!" The priests again exchanged smiles with each other; but their ridicule was wholly lost upon the enraptured stranger.

When the first transports of his emotion had subsided, he began to reflect with sore uneasiness on the time he had already lost since his arrival.

"Alas, what have I been doing!" exclaimed he. "This gold which 1 have been collecting, tell me, reverend priests, will it avail me any thing when the thirty or forty years are expired which, you say, I may possibly sojourn in your planet!"

"Nay," replied the priests, "but verily you will find it of excellent use so long as you remain in it."

re

"A very little of it shall suffice me," plied he: "for consider, how soon this period will be past: what avails it what my condition may be for so short a season? 1 will betake myself, from this hour, to the grand concerns of which you have charitably informed me."

Accordingly, from that period, continues the legend, the stranger devoted himself to

the performance of those conditions on which, he was told, his future welfare depended; but, in so doing, he had an opposition to encounter wholly unexpected, and for which he was even at a loss to account. By thus devoting his chief attention to his chief interests, he excited the surprise, the contempt, and even the enmity of most of the inhabitants of the city; and they rarely mentioned him but with a term of reproach, which has been variously rendered in all the modern languages.

Nothing could equal the stranger's surprise at this circumstance; as well as that of his fellow citizens appearing, generally, so extremely indifferent as they did to their own interests. That they should have so

[ocr errors]

little prudence and forethought as to provide only for their necessities and pleasures for that short part of their existence in which they were to remain in this planet, he could consider only as the effect of disordered intellect; so that he even returned their incivilities to himself, with affectionate expostulation, accompanied by lively emotions of compassion and amazement.

If ever he was tempted for a moment to violate any of the conditions of his future happiness, he bewailed his own madness with agonizing emotions: and to all the invitations he received from others to do any thing inconsistent with his real interests, he had but one answer,--"Oh," he would say, "I am to die---I am to die."

The Honourable Mr. Spencer's elegant poetical dialogue between How d'ye do and Good bye, probably suggested the beautiful stanzas entitled,

NOW AND THEN.

In distant days of wild romance,

Of magic mist and fable;

When stones could argue, trees advance,

And brutes to talk were able;

When shrubs and flowers were said to preach,

And manage all the parts of speech:

'Twas then, no doubt, if 'twas at all,
(But doubts we need not mention,)

That THEN and Now, two adverbs small,
Engaged in sharp contention;

But how they made each other hear,
Tradition doth not make appear.

THEN was a sprite of subtile frame,
With rainbow tints invested;
On clouds of dazzling light she came,
And stars her forehead crested;
Her sparkling eye of azure hue,

Seem'd borrow'd from the distant blue.

NOW rested on the solid earth,
And sober was her vesture;
She seldom either grief or mirth
Express'd by word or gesture;
Composed, sedate, and firm she stood,
And look'd industrious, calm, and good.

THEN, sang a wild fantastic song,
Light as the gale she flies on:

Still stretching, as she sail'd along,

Towards the fair horizon;

Where clouds of radiance, fringed with gold,

O'er hills of emerald beauty roll'd.

Now, rarely rais'd her sober eye

To view that golden distance;

Nor let one idle minute fly

In hope of THEN's assistance;

But still, with busy hands, she stood,
Intent on doing present good.

She ate the sweet but homely fare

That passing moments brought ber';
While THEN, expecting dainties rare,
Despised such bread and water:
And waited for the fruits and flowers
Of future, still receding hours.

Now, venturing once to ask her why,
She answer'd with invective;

44 ATHENEUM VOL. 2., 2d series.

« ПредишнаНапред »