The Sun.
London, England, 1849-09-20 00:00:00

Males ...
Females ...

... 663
... 639

Total ...

... 1,302

THE SUNSHINE 'OF
(From Eliza Cook's Journal.)
" The Wind and the Beam loved the Rose,
But the Rose loved one';
Who reeks where the wild Wind blows,
Or loves not the Sun ?"

Last Days of Pompeii.
" Who loves not the Sun ?" asked the blind girl of
Pompeii—painful question on the lips of one who had
never beheld the light ! " Who loves not the Sun ?"
sung Nydia, and the question admits of only one
answer. We all (could it be otherwise ?) love the
Sun, the dispenser of light and heat ; and we all (can
we help it ?) love the Sunshine which elethes the
world with beauty, the Sunshine which almost pos-
sesses the impossible power of perfecting perfection ;
it e gilds refined gold" and " paints the lily," it adds
a charm to the beautiful and lends attraction to the
homely. Beautiful is the Sunshine! Beautiful as
it glitters in golden sheets of glory on the bosom
of the ocean, as it dances on the rippling waters of the
brook, as it plays in the rain-drops by the wayside.
Beautiful as it faintly glimmers over the mountain
cops at early dawn, as it streams forth at noon-
day, clothing nature in her galaehess, as it
lovingly lingers upon earth when " summer's
lay decliaes along the hills." Beautiful is the
Sunshine ! But let us suppose now, that in this
:ge of wonderful contrivances, some marvellous che-
ideal or scientific process were suggested, by means
ff which (without at all interfering with the
indispensable light and heat) the Sunshine, with its
beauty and gladness, should be for ever extinguished.
the idea is preposterous; but prithee, good friends,
let us consider it quietly for one moment. TVhit, we
ask, would consent to annihilate the Sunshine ? Not
a voice replies. Who, again, would not join with us
in condemning the execrable proposition ? At once,
every voice breaks forth, every hand is raised in
indignation. Every soul, young and old, rich and
poor, man and woman, unites in vehement condemna-
tion of the atrocious thought, "Extinguish the Sun-
shine ! What monster has suggested it ?" Softly,
softly, dear friends! Hear us out, and ye shall, many
of you, be self condemned. There is another Sun-
shine besides that which glads the material world.
There is a Sunshine which suffuses with joy and
beauty our spiritual life. The Sunshine of the moral
world is Love ; not that Love in which novel writers
and novel-readers delight, but Leese itself in its most
holy and universal application. We have eulogised
the beauty of the Sun's beams as they stream on
mountain and moor, forest, field, and fell ; but more
glorious is the light of this spiritual Sunshine.
It beams upon the human countenance with as soft
and pure a radiance as the Sun's rays kindle on the
fair face of nature, and it cheers human hearts with
a warmer glow than was ever occasioned by material
heat. This soul's Sunshine sparkles in the first con-
scious glance which lights up the infant's face as he
smiles upon his mother. It feebly flickers on the
trembling lip and fading eye as the loving soul, reluct-
ustly turning from its dear ones,
" Quits the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
And casts a lunging, lingering look behind."
It beams in the father's proud smile, as the little
group gladly rush "to greet their sire's return." It
lights up the joyous faces of long-parted friends, when
their hands are once again clasped in sympathy. It
shines forth in the wife's fond look of anxious tender-
ness, and the bashful maiden's timid glance. It gleams
in the upturned eye of devotion and the sorrowing
vaze of pity. It flushes the cheek of gratitude, and
quivers in the lip of sympathy. Thrice holy, thrice
beautiful Sunshine of the soul ! And you, lovers of
earth's sunshine, would extinguish this! It is of you
we speak. We allude not to the dogmatic philosopher
(so-called) who sneers at romantic sentimentality (for
which, perhaps, we have as little sympathy as
himself); but we speak of you who, extolling the
beauty of the Sunshine which gladdens your gardens
and delights your eyes, roughly and carelessly extin-
guish that brighter light which should illumine your
hearths and warm your hearts. How many partici-
pate in the sinful folly they just now joined us in
condemning ?—how many of you are extinguishers
of Sunshine ? You extinguish it—you, whose cold
looks, and harsh tones, and unkindly words repel the
sympathy of those who love you. You extinguish it
—you, whom egotism and selfishness render blind to
the feelings and indifferent to the troubles of those
around you. You extinguish it—you, whose paltry
pride scorns to ask pardon when you have offended;
and you, whose still meaner spirit refuses nobly to
forgive what is generously repented of. She extin-
-1 guishes this Sunshine—the wife and mother who
nightly leaves her domestic hearth to seek happiness
in the revel ; no gentle beams illumine her children's
faces; no heart's sunshine lights up her husband's
eye ; no ray of it sparkles in her own. He extinguishes
this Sunshine—the miser, the " Scrooge," whose gold
is his god. No light of love cheers his life; his heart
is desolate and dark : and he also, the avaricious
man, who would scorn the companionship of
the professed " miser," he also extinguishes the
Sunshine that might beam upon his path, who flies
the domestic circle to bury himself in the counting-
house ; who can never spore a word for his wife or a
smile for his children; whose whole heart, like Solo•
mon Jericho's, is full of bank notes and nothing else.
She extinguishes the Sunshine—the Coquette, who
prefers the false glare of adulaticn to the sunny light
of love; who cares more for the empty flattery of a
hundred false lips than for the true devotion of one
honest heart.
How often do brothers and sisters, whose cold looks
or angry words, as they gather round the well-spread
board, daily verify the proverb, "Better is a dinner
of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred
therewith !" And in such cases it is so difficult to
say who is wrong. A trifle—one of those "trifles
which crake the sum of human things"—may have
done all the mischief. And how shall it be undone?
If friends and relatives would only preserve, in their
mutual intercourse, the outward courtesy of stran-
gers, and if strangers would but cherish a little of the
cordiality of relatives, how much happier would the
world be! How much of life's sunshine would then
delight us! As it is, however, distant acquaintances
greet one another kindly, while their hearts too often
belie their words; and friends and brothers turn from
I each other coldly, or speak harshly, while their hearts
too belie their words.
When the beggar's hand is rudely repulsed, and
the passer by boastfully tells us he "caenot en-
courage vagrancy," can we refrain from surmising
that if' his parsimony has spared his purse it has also
deprived his heart of a gleam of happiness ? But
ss e will not _blame him, perhaps he is right in re-
fusing to support the idler, (whether an idler from
choice or compulsion he has not asked). Is he, how-
ever, more ready to grant the prayer of honest
poverty ? Do the needy find in him a willing helper?
Does his hand ever snatch the drowning from de-
struction ? Not so. He never heard—we beg his
pardon ! he is too good a Christian never to have
heard, but he never heeds, the injunction "Give to
him that asketh of thee, and from him that would
borrow of thee turn not away." Some may censure
this worldly-wise one, for our part we pity him—he
shuts up his heart from the sweetest Sunshine that
ever was—the delight of conscious happiness—the
true Sunshine of Love.
But the extinguishers of Sunshine are too nume-
rous to catalogue. Let us leave them to the dm.
lation of their choice, and think of ourselves. We
have no right to chide; we have no right to blame
the taskmaster, whose cruelty " presses" not the
Sunshine only, but "the life from out young
hearts ;" we have no right to blame the legislators
who seemed to forget that in their hands (under
Heaven) is the happiness of the poor; we have no
right to blame till we ourselves are blameless. "He
that is without sin among you let him cast the first
stone." Let us forbear from chiding the wholesale
extinguishers of Sunshine until we ourselves have
proved our love for it by cherishing its beams in our
own hearts, and by our own firesides. Gentle reader,
remember this!—When harsh words fall from your
lips, when an angry frown furrows your brow, when
a cold smile curls your lip, when you turn a deaf ear
to the voice of sorrow, when your hand refuses the
grasp of sympathy or the token of forgiveness, when
your steps continually turn from home in search of
foreign pleasures—then, and in a thousand other in-
stances, too trivial almost to notice, but, alas, not
trivial in their consequence—you too, even you are an
extinguisher of Sunshine—of the joyous and beauti-
'ul sunshine of the soul.
__-----.---.--------'

In the recent alterations in the executive of the
Midland Railway, we observe that Mr. Joseph San-
ders, late secretary of the Bristol and Birmingham,
is appointed general manager over the whole of the
Midland and its numerous branches. This must be
most gratifying to him, as a proof of the high esti-
mation in which his business habits and gentlemanly
conduct are held by the directors.
RETURN OF THE COURT VIA EDIABLIRGH.--We are
enabled on the be st authority to state the time of her Ma-
jesty's &Tarture from Balmoral, and the route to be fol-
lowed by the royal party. Her Majesty will leave Bal-
moral on the 26th, and proceed by carriage to Perth,
where she will stay during the night. Next morning her
Majesty will proceed on the Scottish Central to the Green-
hill Junction station, and along the Edinburgh and
Glasgow line to. Edinburgh. We presume it is not
intended, according to present arrangements, to make
any stay at this city, but to proceed along the North
British, the York, Newcastle, and Berwick, and the Mid-
land Railways to Derby, where the Royal party will
sojourn for the night at the Midland Hotel, and resume
their journey next morning. The directors of the North
British Railway have received official intimation that a
special train will be required for her Majesty and suite
on the 27th ; and we understand. the directors on the
other lines have received a similar notice.—Edinbnrgla
Advertiser.
ago the bodies of a young man and
womanf ere
ewe
daysfoun d bound together in the River Loing,
near Montargis. On the bank of the river was a note,
calling on the passers-by to pray to God for them, and
intimating that they had committed suicide in conse-
quence of the refusal of the father of the young man to
allow their marriage.—Paris Paper.