“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extinguished, when the sun shall have withdrawn his influence, and, if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 naught but
the echo of its din has ever fallen upon her ear. She listens with
wonder to the deeds of which we sometimes tell her we 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.