“Alone! and on the smooth, hard, sandy shore of the boundless sea! A
lovelier morning never dawned upon the world of waters. O! how balmy,
how clear, how soul-subduing, how invigorating is the air! Calmness sits
throned upon the unmoving clouds, whose colors are like the sky, only of
a brighter hue. One of them, more ambitious than its fellows, is
swimming onward, a wanderer, and companionless. O that I could rest upon
its ‘unrolling skirts,’ and take an aerial pilgrimage around the
globe,—now looking down upon its humming cities, and fruitful and
cultivated plains; and again, upon some unpeopled wilderness or ocean
solitude! But alas! the peerless beauty of that light cloud will be
extinguished, when the sun shall have withdrawn his influence, and, if
not entirely dispersed, will take another shape, and make its home in
darkness. And so have I seen a man, when wandering from the heavenly
sunshine of religion, passing from his cradle to the grave.
“As I gaze upward into yon blue dome, the anxieties of life are all
forgotten, and my heart throbs with a quicker pulse, and beats with an
increasing thrill of joy. How holy and serene those azure depths of air!
Strange, that aught so beautiful should canopy a world of tears, decay,
and death! Yonder sky is the everlasting home of countless worlds; the
vast ethereal chamber, where are displayed the wonders of the thunder,
and lightning, and rainbow; and a mirror, too, reflecting the glorious
majesty, the wisdom and power of the Omnipotent. Lo! across my vision
there is floating another cloud, whiter than the driven snow! Rearward,
there trails along another, and still another, until pile on pile they
reach upward to the very zenith; and oh, how gorgeous the scenes which
my fancy conjures up, delighted with their changing loveliness! One
moment, I behold a group of angels reclining at ease upon the summit of
a pearly battlement; and now, summoned by a celestial strain of melody,
they spread their pinions for a higher flight,—a flight into the diamond
portals of the New Jerusalem. Again, a river of pure white foam rolls
swift but noiseless through unpeopled valleys, hemmed in by airy
mountains of wondrous height, until its waters empty into a tranquil
sea, boundless and ‘beautiful exceedingly;’ and on this, a myriad of
swanlike barges are gliding to and fro, without a breeze, while the
voyagers are striking their golden harps, and singing hymns of sweetest
strain and holiest import, whose echoes die away on the shadowy waves.
There! all these, like the dreams of youth, are melting into
nothingness;—and my eyes now rest only upon the dark blue ocean.
“The green waves of the Atlantic, with their undulating swell, come
rolling in upon the sand, making a plaintive music, sweeter than the
blended harmonies of a thousand instruments. Would that I might leap in
and wrestle with them, and, when overcome by fatigue, lay my heated brow
upon those cool watery pillows, rocked to sleep as in a cradle, while my
lullaby would be the moaning of the sea. The mists of morning are all
dispelled, and the glorious sunshine, emblem of God’s love, is bathing
with effulgent light the ocean before me, and behind me the mountains
and valleys of my own loved country. Look! how the white caps chase each
other along the watery plain, like the milk-white steeds, striving in
their freedom to outstrip the breeze. Whence comes this breeze, and
whither is it going? Three days ago, at set of sun, it spread its wing
near to a sandy desert of Africa, where a caravan of camels, and horses,
and men, had halted for the night; and at the dawning of to-morrow, it
will be sporting with the forest-trees of the western wilderness!
“Far as the eye can reach, the sea is ‘sprinkled o’er with ships,’ their
white sails gleaming in the sunlight. One of them has just returned from
India, another from the Pacific, and another from the Arctic Sea. Years
have elapsed since they departed hence. They have been exposed to a
thousand dangers, but the great God, who holds the ocean in the hollow
of his hand, has conducted them back to their desired homes. How many
silent prayers of thanksgiving, and what a thrilling and joyous shout,
will echo to the shore, as those storm-beaten mariners drop anchor in
their native waters! Yonder, too, are other ships, bound to the remotest
corners of the earth. They seem to rejoice in their beauty and speed,
and proud is their bearing; but will they ever return? Alas! the shadowy
future alone can answer. Farewell, a long farewell, ye snowy daughters
of the ocean.”
But to return. Lilly Larnard is fond of music, too, and plays
delightfully on the harp. Her voice is sweeter than the fall of waters
when heard at a distance in the stillness of the twilight hour. She
knows nothing of fashion, and if she did, would consider it beneath her
dignity to be incommoded or swayed by it. Instead of decking herself
with gew-gaws, for a brilliant appearance in the gay saloon, within
sound of the rude jest and foolish flattery, she strives by watchfulness
and care to purify her daily conduct; for hers is not less prone to sin
than all other human hearts. “Necklaces does she sometimes wear, in her
playful glee, made of the purple fruit that feeds the small birds in the
moors, and beautiful is the gentle stain then visible over the blue
veins of her swan-like bosom.” Beautiful as she is, a feeling of vanity
never yet entered the heart of the rector’s daughter. She feels too
deeply the truth, that personal charms, which are the only pride of
weak-minded persons, time will eventually transform into wrinkled
homeliness; and that an affectionate heart and good understanding will
endure, and become more perfect, until the pilgrimage of life is ended.
Never has Lilly Larnard been more than thirty miles away from the
village of her birth. She has read of cities, and the busy multitudes
that throng them; of armies and navies; of politics and war; but all
these things to her are but as the visions of a dream. She is ignorant
of the real condition and character of the great world, for nought but
the echo of its din has ever fallen upon her ear. She listens with
wonder to the deeds of which I sometimes tell her I have been an
unwilling witness in the wilderness of men. She thinks it strange, that
the inhabitants of cities think so much of the present life, and so
little of the future. Her days have been spent in innocence beneath the
blue dome of the illimitable sky, inhaling the pure unadulterated air of
the country, now sporting in the sunshine, and now sprinkled by a
refreshing shower; while the loveliest of flowers and birds, and holy
and tender affections, have been her hourly companions; and her nights
have passed away in pleasant dreams of that bright world beyond the
stars.