Litchfield enquirer., 1837-09-14

has doubtless, at times, regarded Nature with the eye of the poet or the painter {; and he must at such times have felt that her every form of loveliness has power to captiVate the fancy and to graiity the taste. And even lle who has looked upon her with the eye of common observation merely, must have experienced rare delight in con. templating the eudless variety of scenery which she every where exhibits. And is there one among all her admiring Obser- vers, who can say that her silent yet ex- pressive harmony, has not power to awa-. ken in the human bosom kindred harmo- nyI The fresh green livery of Spring-- the russct garb of Summertime golden at- tire of Autumn, and tho grey panopiy of Winter, each garment that she wears has a beauty peculiar to itself. Nor is it alone the hue of her robe that renders her ape pearance, at each successive season, so at tractive. There is . certain fitness in things-an adaptation of means to ends, that, in nature, pleases US well. To per- ceve that through all her countless varie- ties, she has an ultimate design, is one thing. This simple perception alone af- lords us pleasure. But to discern the beau- ty of 6tness between this design aud tho means by which it is to be accomplished, is another and very different thing, and yields pleasure of sublimer species.-- We believe that through all her changes, the design of Nature is to mirror to the mind of man the image of his transitory staie in the life that is, and, by the yearly renewal of her freshness, to convince the good man that, when his worn and wearied spirit shall refuse longer to dwell in its fieshIy tabernacle, it shall come forth be- yond the grave, invigorated for the life that is to be, with pinions strengthened for a loftier flight and wings fresh plumed for immortality! A design. how glorious The means for it's accomplishment, how simple how appropriate would to God we might say, how efficient!
 The whole ofNalure's history, like that. ofmsn's, is summed up in three words. She wakes to life, lives to one short year, and perishes. And yet, throughout this brief existence, there is not an hour that is not replete with instruction to man.
 The Spring of the year may be styled the infancy, the girlhood of Nature. She comes in, arrayed in gaudy livery. with light aud bounding footstep-joy beaming from her sunny eye, and fragrant odors gushing from the flowers which she hath scattered. Anon, her sunlit countenance is bathed in tears, yet even in tears and with all her seeming child:ikO fcklcness, we love her still. Her appearance glad-- dens our hearts, and we feel an almost in- stinctve wish that she would stay in our presence forever. But as age advances, she throws off something of the playfulness, and those coquettsh airs, which marked her earlier hour; the chastely delicate blossoms which bespeak the future harvest, tell in all the sweet simplicity of innocence, that she was born to blossom and to bear. Presently she assumes new name, and we call her youth, Summer. Her garb, with less of attractive ornament, has now more of winning modesty. Grace marks her every movement-and while she seem ingly rejoices in the first fruits of the year, her look is interesting as that of the young mother keeping her fond vigil over the first born of her lovo.
 Again the scene is changed--how like the changes in sick mans dream! It is Autumn-and this we call the womanhood of Nature. All the mother is imprinted on her serenely tranquil brow. She has indeed exchanged the gorgeous apparelling that became her youth so well for more sober attire that becomes her maturity bet ter. Yet still her mien is interesting, for her look is of maternity. And though her cheek is faded, and though many of the charms which were lavished upon her in life's green spring have perisl'ed by the | d. lsactnm nf hNr ova ia unninl.
 med by sorrow or if it be, we do not ob-
 serve it, for the light of faith hath imparted
 to it a more than wonted brilliancy, and she seems to look forward with all the spirit energy of dying christian. to tho joyous renewal of her being. She feels that stern Winter is approaching, and sine eirds herself tO meet him. His icy greet ing chiIs her life blood, and it presently ceases to circulate in any of her thousand veins. But the vital principle it is not his to destroy. The spirit of life, ensconced by power over which Winter hath no control, seeks refuge from his ruthless em- brace in the friendly bosom of Earth, till his relaxed grasp proclaims that every sluiced vein is again unsealed. Then glad ly doth the spirit of life leap forth 10 run anew its rejoicing race.
 Thus is 1t with man. He is ushered in- to life, in all the beauty and simplicity of primeval innocence. But Mutability,' is engraven upon the title page of his unwrit- ten history, and he yields implicit obedi- ence to law which he can neither abrogate nor repeal. He rejoices, perhaps, for scason-but ere he is aware, the fascina- tions of sin beguile his spirit into forbidden paths and her seal is darkly set upon his