that a religious character should present evidence of self-denial
and self-restraint; should have renounced something of pleasure
and desire; should have mortified some affections, and wrestled
with some infirmities. Of the measure of this denial, each honest
conscience must judge for itself. The great end of it, the sole
reason for its necessity in an individual character is, that the
law of the spiritual life may be obeyed, by the right exercise of
the highest faculties and aims of the human heart. All indulgence
inconsistent with this consecration is sin, and must be restrained.
Yet who can decide the measure of this indulgence or restraint
for another? A large ecclesiastical body has lately decided that
dancing is inconsistent with a religious character. Whether this
opinion is true or false, can be decided only by each individual
for himself; by his own knowledge whether this or that amusement
makes him frivolous and trifling, or whether it is only a momentary
relaxation, enjoyed and then forgotten.
Now it is evident that the Almighty does not need nor require at
our hands any self-denial or restraint of any kind, considered by
itself, independently of its uses. Self-denial is of value only
because of its influence on the character. So that we must ask
ourselves what is the _reason_ for self-denial in any given case,
what is the _nature_ of it, what the _degree_ of it, what the
_result_ of it? Then shall we learn that in a religious character
there has been a struggle between the lower and the higher nature,
and that in all the parts and stages of that struggle, passion
and sense have been denied; and denied for what? Not for a sour
or morbid sanctimoniousness, but for the sake of a calm and
meditative rest of the spirit, that unseen realities, and spiritual
convictions, and noble purposes, and heavenly hopes, may have power
over the character.
And as to the second process, of which a religious character is to
show the visible results, the process of culture: this may appear
in many traits, and graces, and actions, so as to distinguish a
religious character from a common character. The elements of that
culture are affections and duties, motives and convictions. The same
strife between the higher and the lower nature which is begun in
self-denial, is pursued in spiritual culture. The heart searcheth
after the means of improvement and progress: and they are found near
to us; in the lowly duties of common life, in the opportunities of
a day, in the necessity which our uniform experience presents,
for acting from principle if we would act aright. Self-culture, in
all its highest and most comprehensive processes, is the condition
by which Christian elements of character are to be acquired. Of
course, virtues and graces, tastes and affections, are to be valued
and preferred in proportion to their relative excellence. Piety and
love, which express the applications of the two great commandments,
are to be cherished, cultivated, and manifested. He who is truly
and earnestly pursuing these two processes of renunciation and
attainment, will acquire through his own experience a better
knowledge of the elements of a Christian character than any creed
or covenant can teach him. The opposing systems, the controverted
dogmas, the various usages and ceremonies of Christian sects, will
have but little importance for him; and he will feel that there are
two parties which he is to satisfy--GOD and his own soul.
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
I.
SING of her heroes' deeds, ye harps
That long in Erin's halls have hung!
Give to the world their mighty names--
Give to their glorious deeds a tongue!
II.
Clime of the South! whose seven hills
Uphold the fount of Genius, where
To drink large draughts, from every land
The votaries of art repair:
III.
Thou hast a list of time-tried names;
Some truly great were born of thee:
Some with their iron heel stamped out
The last sad spark of liberty.
IV.
One land the Grecian madman boasts,
Another claims the conquering Swede;
One, echoing back the name of TELL,
Holds up her hands from fetters freed!
V.
Yet brightest on the lists of fame,
Bright with the glory Virtue gives,
Enshrined within a nation's heart,
Our PATER PATRIÆ ever lives!
VI.
No tear-stained laurels bind his brow,
No bleeding land has cursed his birth;
A _world's_ proud meed hath given him place
Above the honored names of earth.
HORACE.
SKETCHES OF EAST-FLORIDA.
NUMBER TWO.
MY LAST NIGHT ON GUARD.
I WAS flat on my back, trying to count a small group of stars in
the zenith of that part of heaven which overhangs St. Augustine,
taking my observation by the camp-fire, from a pine board, with the
'stub-shot' for a pillow; the six feet of Bravo were disposed of in
the same manner; and Boag and a few Spaniards were radiating in the
zodiacal circle, of which the fire was the centre. The duties of our
profession had not been so severe that day as to forbid our sitting
up; but then it was much easier to lie down, at least so thought
the Spaniards, who take every thing the easiest way possible; and
Boag was deep in the invention of a new whirling contrivance for
the making of egg-nogg, and chose to give himself up exclusively to
the concentration of mind necessary for that purpose. Some one had
thrown out, rather lazily, that it was 'very warm,' and he reckoned
'the alligators would stick their noses out to-night;' and another
had remarked, with considerable effort, that 'alligators or not,
it was just right and couldn't be better;' and this seemed so much
the sense of the majority, that no one cared to heat himself with
any argument upon the subject; and each one wandered off on his own
private speculation.
It was that kind of night that seals up the lips like twilight.
Warm, perhaps to a fault, and yet a change of two degrees would
have drawn our cloaks over us, and we should have complained of
the cold. The fire was a mere companion, that could talk to us
without the effort of conversation; and in the absence of French
perfumery, the smell of the pitch kindling was quite passable, and
that of the orange-wood pretty much like any other. But the night
was _not_ like any other; common enough there, but not within the
scope of any imagination that dates north of thirty-five degrees.
The air was nowhere in particular, unless you might suppose, from
the solemn tone of the pine woods, that the sea-breeze which went
out in the morning was on its way back; but a feather thrown up
would probably have wandered about for a while, and then balanced
itself upon my nose, and I should merely have seen a strange star
in the heavens; olden philosophers have done worse. But I didn't
throw up a feather; too much trouble. Overhead, all was bright and
still; no shooting-stars, nor any thing of a quarrelsome nature;
and not a cloud to be seen, in a sky that has no clouds for mere
shading purposes; and though a stranger, standing on the sea-wall,
would have guessed a storm, from a flash seen occasionally in the
haze lying on the eastern horizon, there was no storm to be; merely
the playfulness of the Gulf Stream that is sometimes seen from that
coast.
In the lower part of the city, a dog was howling out some
unimaginable irritation, perhaps only to indicate that something
should be said upon such an occasion; or perhaps the hoot of a
porpoise disturbed him; or more likely, it was _too_ still for him;
he couldn't bear it. If I had fallen asleep, I should have dreamed
of being outside some ruined city, and the cry of that dog sounding
up through the narrow streets, like a man talking through a trumpet,
would have been the howl of a hyena or jackal; and with fallen
columns and moonlight, it would have sounded very well in a 'letter
from our foreign correspondent.' But in Augustine, it was only a
dog, and just like any other dog, that sometimes fancies itself
very unhappy, and howls out its inspired misery in baying the moon.
Beyond all doubt, dogs may be poetical. There are all varieties of
dog; and it would be strange if in such a mixed breed there were
not a poet-species, in a race that takes madness so easily. The dog
excepted, one would have called it very still at first thought, but
on listening, there was a great deal of varied music going on; one
voice after another coming to the ear from the innumerable land and
water fowl, making up a kind of opera, in which each one appeared
to speak very much at random; and that, I take it, is the peculiar
beauty of operas. Amid a great variety of short interjections,
queries and answers, some were talking entirely to themselves, as it
seemed, and others appeared to have a domestic, 'keep away' kind of
expression in their remarks, arising probably from some member of
the family's being too assiduous in his attentions; or perhaps they
had dined badly, and so got up a quarrel to improve their digestion.
No doubt there are unknown griefs, as well as unwritten poetry, in
all animal life. Whatever the cause, there was an irritability and
a nervous restlessness in the waters and salt-grass, that larger
animals of two legs, who dine when they please and as they please,
understand much better than I can tell.
Over all these inconsistences of a night so beautiful, swept like
a minute-gun the sound of the third wave breaking on Anastasia
Island; and on the other side, the forest, as aforesaid, which had
hundreds of miles of even tree-tops on which to get up its 'voice of
the night,' answered back in the same earnest and solemn manner. No
fingering, or tugging at the bellows, in all this organ-izing, which
was quite as good as could be made to order.
All this (and if any one wonders what it has to do with the incident
to follow, he has read novels in vain,) all this had 'come and gone'
through my mind, unconsciously, like a glass of congress-water
elsewhere; and I turned to the stars as usual, before shutting up
for the night. 'Very tolerable,' said I to myself, thinking of the
night, 'and not to be sneezed at.' (No taking cold in that climate.)
'One, two, three; the sides of an equilateral triangle, and the
square of the hypothenuse bisected in the middle,' and so forth. Q.
E. D.; there we are, the fourteenth; that is, the very 'particular
star.' We had agreed that she--that is, that we--would look at the
same star, and not to blunder upon different stars, which would be
very awkward, and, a thousand miles distant from each other, could
not be connected without some waste of sentiment on the passage. We
had selected one in a group which had to be theorized geometrically
before the bright particular one could be identified. The idea of
her looking miscellaneously at the north pole and I at the south,
and each expecting the requisite titillation of sympathy! We were
not to be duped into any such latitudinal delusion!
I had found my star, and was looking very hard at it through the
tube of one hand, while the other was brushing off musquitoes, when
a gun reported itself about two miles distant; and directly another,
and another; after which the enemy appeared to be entirely used up,
and the engagement over.
The guard were asleep, and coming gradually to my elbow, I intimated
to Bravo that there was a disturbance at the North Post. He gave
the alarm to his comrades, who, one by one, came very slowly to
the consciousness of an Indian alarm. Then of a sudden muskets
glittered in the moon-light, belts were strapped, primings looked
to, and the sentries received orders to fire at any, the least
whisper, that was not perfectly intelligible and satisfactory.
Bravo started for the city; and now we began to hear the tramp of
the horse as they clattered up to the point of alarm. There were
five hundred Charleston volunteers in the city, ready for the first
show of fight or frolic; and in half an hour every man in town who
had a musket or rifle, was on his way to do battle against--nobody
knew what. There was much tramping, and shouting of 'Where are the
rascals?' 'Which way?' 'Clear the track for the big gun!' 'Down
with the red devils!' etc.; all which passed over, after a little,
and the people went back again, with a keen relish for hot suppers,
and a highly exhilarating sense of their increased importance. It
was not, however, so trifling a matter; and upon more than one
occasion during the war, the feeble and aged repaired to the fort
for security. Indians had been seen near the town only a few days
previous; several bold murders had been committed on the Picolata
road; and the tracks of parties almost daily seen by the escort sent
out between the two places. But this, if I remember aright, was the
first experience of the town in this new kind of excitement.
After an hour or two Bravo returned with the fact, as he alleged,
that an Indian had been seen and fired at; and the sentry thought he
saw several more, but they wouldn't wait for the people to come and
shoot them. The people had gone to bed again, assured that no Indian
would show himself _there_ again; and as to the southern post, it
was only necessary to reflect that Corporal Bravo had command there,
and turn over to unwinking repose; 'for gentlemen,' said Bravo, 'I
have not thought proper to alarm the town with my views upon this
matter; though it is perfectly plain that an odd Indian was sent to
that post to attract attention that way, while the main body of the
enemy is undoubtedly in our neighborhood, and _we_ shall receive
the first attack. Every man will sleep with one eye open, and his
hand on his musket.' As the Indians might be within hearing, the
speech was received with silent applause; but there were quite a
number of severe and very rapid gesticulatory engagements, showing
what would probably be done in the course of the night. Boag and
myself stood apart. We were out of favor. Our exploit as 'officer of
the night' had something to do with it; and any one who likes the
fag-ends of every thing will be glad to learn that we arrived safe
at our quarters under the protection of the corporal, who had missed
us from the camp. On retiring that night, that is, laying myself
out on a board, I went down, step by step, into a very deep sleep;
and although I was threatened with a 'lock-up' in the fort, and a
court-martial trial, it was found impossible to make me understand
that I was wanted 'on guard,' and another man was posted in my
place. There was also an 'incident of travel' that had soured the
'complainants' exceedingly.
In marching down from the fort, a day or two previous, the corporal
stopped at his house for a moment, and Boag and myself walked on,
turned the next corner, and went direct to the camp. The corporal
and guard, on resuming their march, missed us, and presuming that we
had deserted, went half a mile out of their way to the house where
they expected to find us. Some of my friends happened to be lounging
on the balcony when the guard came up, and replied to their inquiry
for us, that we were not there. Bravo insisted that we _were_,
and he would find us, and made one step to that effect, when one
of my friends, who has a very quiet and effective manner for such
occasions, stepped before the door-way and remarked, in his ordinary
tone, 'You can't come in, Sir.' The corporal stopped, with one foot
up, lifted the pan of his musket, shook up the powder, looked up and
down the street in a speculating way, and then stalked off with his
men, having decided that the speculation was a bad one. They found
us at the camp, target-shooting, but were too much chagrined to join
us, and vented their spleen in a noisy discharge of Spanish and
Minorcan, in which both seemed equally offensive.
My name was not on the sentry-list for to-night; but upon the
grounds now mentioned it was determined that I should be posted; and
accordingly at three o'clock I took my stand about a hundred yards
from the camp-fire, and soon beat a short path in the sand, where I
was to walk out the hours of the night. The night ought to have been
very dark and cloudy, with high winds, and a thunder-storm. I should
have liked it much better; but it was not. On the contrary, the
light of the moon in that latitude is sufficient to make a common
newspaper type quite readable, and I was in the full blaze of it.
But directly before me was the deep shade of the forest; so near,
that by lengthening my walk a little I could have stepped into it,
as from a lighted room into midnight darkness; and this gave enough
of the mystical for the most imaginative sentry. The 'voices of the
night' had died away one by one, leaving only the solemn roar of
the sea and the pine-tops, and the wash of the tide, as it swept
up occasionally into the long grass of the marsh. Once in a while,
perhaps at a great distance, there would be a sharp, snappish cry,
which I would stop a moment to analyze, and occasionally a splash,
which might be an alligator crawling in from a night ramble; but
to all these noises I had been previously hardened. However it may
seem to the very romantic, it is not, after all, a very pleasant
thing to stand in a bright light, where an enemy can approach within
pistol-shot of you, or perhaps give you his first notice by a stab
direct. The matter-of-fact probability, the _expectancy_, in this
case is not so pleasant; and to one who has never been in just such
a position, it would be amusing, the first night or two, to observe
the increased circulation of blood, and the lively and exhilarated
condition of body; far beyond a salt-water bath, and with nothing of
the chill of it; on the contrary, very warm. Then the quick turn at
the end of the walk, not knowing what may have taken place since the
last facing; the Lot's-wife look over the shoulder; and all the time
an acuteness of hearing that at last embraces a whole roar of small
noises, surging and dashing like so many breakers.
I had been out about an hour, and was in something of a glow in this
respect, when from the swamp side there came a sudden crashing. I
halted, brought my gun to a half-bearing, and looked; nothing to be
seen, but directly again, crash!--_crash!_--CRASH!
'Halloo!' said I, forgetting the _militaire_ for a moment, and then
resuming it with a blush, (I _know_ I must have blushed,) cried out
very boldly, 'Who comes there?' No answer, and nothing to be seen.
I took out a small opera-glass and swept over a range of half a
mile. Nothing moving, but the shade of the forest was so deep that
any thing short of a bonfire _might_ have been there, and I should
never have seen it. All being still again, I resumed my walk, making
it much shorter than before; and with very peremptory turns, half
laughing to myself that any body should dare to approach a man with
such a musket, and such a step, when again came the crash! _crash!_
CRASH! and much nearer than before. 'Fury!' said I to myself; and
I gave out the challenge, calling the corporal of the guard at the
same time, with a rapidity that would have astonished a Frenchman.
But there was no answer, and the whole camp was asleep.
This was a little too much. 'Man or devil!' I shouted, 'if you
make one more step forward, I'll blow you to atoms!' and upon the
last word, as a kind of bravado, as it seemed, came two more heavy
crashes. Although considerably heated, I was at the same time very
cool, and aiming carefully at the noise, I blazed away; a double
charge of powder, a large musket-ball, and fifteen buck-shot.
There was a rustling, and something like a fall, and then all was
still again. I blew out the barrel, and with one eye on the marsh,
was ramming down cartridge for another shot, when Boag came down,
shouting like a madman: 'Where are they?' said he, looking all ways
at once. 'There!' said I, ramming away, 'there; don't you see them?'
'Whoop!' said he; 'now I have 'em;' and aiming miscellaneously, he
sent his ball almost any where in that direction, and gave another
whoop that might have been taken for 'the real Indian.' My second
cartridge followed immediately, and another was ready, when Bravo
and his men marched down in battle array. 'Halt!' with a voice of
thunder; 'make ready, take aim, _fire_!' and a whole volley was
poured into the marsh. Boag was in raptures, and didn't wait for
orders; but now, in charging for the next round, we discovered for
the first time that the enemy didn't return the fire. Boag suggested
that they might have crept round to the left wing, and proposed
that we should fire in that direction; but that was considered
rather promiscuous for a military operation. We sent out scouts,
however, who went very short distances each way, but far enough to
discover that all Augustine was close by; the horsemen taking the
road, and those on foot coming cross-lots, crying out to us to hold
on, and not fire till they came up; and making in various ways a
vast display of courage, properly proportioned to the distance. The
horsemen came up first, and made a furious charge upon the marsh,
and all the people received orders not to fire in that direction
till the _cavalry_ returned. The day was now breaking, and the marsh
was scoured for half a mile; but the enemy--had disappeared; not an
Indian was to be seen; but wandering about, in a very distracted
manner, was a young heifer, dangerously wounded, and close by lay
her aged mother. She had received a musket-ball, and 'expired
without a groan.'
Boag would have it that he saw Indians, and swore that he winged
one of them, for he heard him _yell_, as did the guard, who knew
all about Indian yells, and myself, who did not; but in a free
country people will think as they like; and as they have dined, or
been called out of bed to the consultation, will be the difference
of opinion. Others in my position had been suddenly sick, and
variously afflicted, to avoid duty. I had not; but this last _chef
d'oeuvre did_ the thing effectually. From that day I was considered
impracticable.
SEED OF CONTENTMENT.
FROM THE GERMAN.
SINCE Fate in her simple wisdom
Has passed me unfavored by,
I let the blind wheel of Fortune
Roll on without a sigh.
Still blest with humble fruition,
Disdained I the proffered store;
Nor to the current of youthful days
Did memory wander more.
Free from corrosive repining,
From discontentedness free,
I knew that to-day's enjoyment
A source of to-morrow's would be.
W. F. P.
TO A FAYRE PERSONNE
UPON SHORT ACQUAINTANCE.
BY JOHN WATERS.
I.
I MAY not, would not, quite forget
The hours I pass'd with thee--
'T were death to say, 'I love;' and yet,
Silence harder seemeth me.
II.
Ah no! I never could forget
Those words of joy, from thee!
They say thou lov'st another--yet
How bright thy beam o'er me!
III.
They say thou art 'a sad coquette'--
Yet how to doubt a smile,
In which Day-dawn and Eve are met
For Fraud--if this be Guile!
IV.
And then thine Eye! of morn's grey hue
Kindling with beams of wit--
If its deep glories prove untrue,
Let all be false, like it!
V.
'Let all be false!'--How hath this thought
Found life within my heart?--
Is this a change thy spell hath wrought,
Thy spirit could impart?
VI.
I may, I can, I must forget
Those golden hours with thee:
Half-lovers were we ere we met,
Such could we no more be!
VII.
Forever be forgot, the day,
The form, the voice, the eye--
Since thou thyself art ta'en away,
Take, take thy memory,
VIII.
Thy dewy fragrance from my heart;
Thy Genius off my mind;
Thine untold Grace, the thrill, the dart--
Leave not a dream behind!
IX.
Then shall my soul--like mountain lake
The tempest hath plough'd o'er--
Its diamond shield reluctant take,
And Heaven reflect once more!
THE QUOD CORRESPONDENCE.
Harry Harson.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
LEAVING Michael Rust buried in death-like slumber, the result of
intense mental anxiety that had denied his body that repose which it
required, we must turn to one destined to take an active part in the
succeeding events of this history; and who, on that same evening,
was employed in a manner directly the reverse of that of Rust. That
man was Harry Harson.
Seated at a table in his own room, with every feature puckered up
into a very hard knot, the combined result of thought, perplexity,
and anger, he was poring over a number of papers, occasionally
pausing to scratch his head, or breaking out into an exclamation of
displeasure, not unfrequently accompanied by a hard thump on the
table, as something met his eye which excited his indignation in a
peculiar degree.