Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1830-10-13

short, it is the rarest season of the year,
and whoever enjoys it not has only to
blame himself. Boston Patriot.
II The following beautiful passage is
from sermon preached by Bishop Heber
to his parishioners, a short time before
his departure for India in 1898.
i TIE STREAM OF LIFE.
/ "Lite bears us on like the stream of a
mighty river. Our boat, at first, glides
down the narrow channel; thro' the play
ful murmuring of the little brook and the
winding of its grassy border. The trees
shed their blossoms over our young heads
the flowers on the brink seem to offer
themselves to our young hands: we are
happy in hope, and we grasp eagerly at
the beauties around us but the stream
hurries on, and still our hands are empty.
"Our course in youth and manhood
is along u wider and deeper flood, and
amid object, more striking and magnii-
cent. We are animated with the mov-
ing picture Of enjoyment and industry
which passes before us; we are excited
by some short-lived disappointment
But our energy and our dependence are
both in vain. The stream bears us on,
and our joys and our griels are alike left
behind us; we may be ship wrecked, but
we cannot anchor; our voyage may be
hastened, but it cannot be DELAYED (;
whether rough or smooth, the river hast
ems towards its home; all the roar of the
ocean is in our ears, and the tossing OF
the waves is beneath our feet, and tn G
lands lessen from our eyes, and the floods
are lifted up around us, and the earth los
es sight of us, and we take our last leave
Of earth and its inhabitants, and of our
further voyage there is no witness, but
the infinite and eternal.
i "And' do we still take so much anx-
ious thought for the future days, when the
days which have gone by have so strange
/ ly and uniformly deceived US, Can we
still so set our hearts on the creatures OF
God, when we find by sad experience,
that the Creator only is permanent Or
shall we not rather lay aside every weight
and every sin which does most easily be-
set us, and think of ourselves henceforth
as wayfaring persons only, who have no
abiding inheritance but in the hope of a
better world, and to whom even that
world would be worse than hopeless, if il
were not for our Lord Jesus Christ, and
the interest which we have obtained in
his mercies."
"What has become Of those whose
youthful hands we pressed with ardor-a-
round whose neck our arms was fondly
thrown-whose mirth, whose pains, we
shared-whose wrongs we were ever rea-
dy TO avenge-in whom we confded?-
for the dark influence Of suspicion was
then unich. Some of them have been
gathered to mansions Of death, in the
spring Of their days; while they thought
and "dreamed'' of"many morrow gay''
some upon whose devoted heads the
storms ofmisfortune have piteously pelted,
have sought, far from their homes, for
eign grave-some have quafled the cup
which smiling pleasure offered-they are
now treading, with hasty footsteps, the
road whose end is ruin-some have been
"marked" by "melancholy, for her own,' u
and move through life "in the hopeless
brokenness of heart"-some are far a.
way, tossed on the stormy ocean, or pur-
suing fortune in other climes, exposed to
death from the roaring wave, or inhal-
ing the pestilential breeze. OF how few
can it be said, their path has always been
prosperousi Those may be considered
as fortunate, and should be contented,
who can say, we float along the stream
Of time-it is now gentle and calm-now
rough and turbulent-its banks are often
adorned with gay and beauteous land
scapes--tho' our prospects are sometimes
bounded by dark and barren rocks, as
we advance we are greeted with smiling
spots of verdure--but long tracts of
cherries sterility too, too frequent meet
our gaze Happy is he whose bosom is
swaved. and whose notions are directed,