Litchfield enquirer., 1840-08-06


 startles Echo trcm her sleep
 And shows the nat,e e eadness of their hearts,
 Here they arc, barehcadcd, and some of mem bareiooted, but health bloc ming upon their checks, and rapture sparkling in their eyes. Look at this little party cambolling oil the green sward. Over they go-heels over head! What care they for the hard knocks they get in falling! And how de- lighted arc they-what a shout of merri- ment is set up-when one of their number rolls into the ditch Happy children, tum- bic on-gambol whilst yc may! the days are coming when you must toil for the poor plttance that buys your daily bread when the cares of life will weigh heavily on your hearts, noao so bounding and so elated !- Enjoy the bllssful present, then, as much as you call-thCrc Is no time to De lest. Over again!
 See that young urchir, with rcd cheeks and f1aXen curls, pGddling in the runnel that bustles along under von hcdge-side l. How he loves to feel the cool water dance over his toes! How eagerly he pouncos upon the minnow that darts from beneath 1 the messy stones before him, or comes flit- ting down the stream! How he floGs the tall weed with his stick; and delights in making puddle of the crystal brooklct!
 Observe the pretty black-eyed girl, in the blue frock with the toddling youngstcr by her side! She is making a garden in the dust, with twigs of trees, flowers pluck ed from the hedge-row, white pebbles, and bits of broken crockery picked up in the lane. And how pleased is little Davc with the contrlvance! New he fetches a stone and stops up gap in the border-now a blade of grass, or an unmeaning straw, sticking 1t with profoundest judgment in the middle of the miniature maLk, or exactly in the place where it should not be. With the spirit of mischief he now runs over the la- bored work, and destroys their little Eden, trampling under foot its llowercts and its bowers,
 And laughs to see the ruin he has wrought!
 See, he Is now astridc the grazing ass, supported by his sister, How lie kicks and jumps, and opens wide his eyes, and fancies himself going to market! Now he is un supported-his sister has withdrawn her arm. How grave, how motienless! His tiny faculties seem to be busily questioning the danger. The ass hits leg-Davie's courage fails him-he makes a ccmical Wry lace, and begins to whimper; and Da- vie stretches out his little arm for help!
 We seldom behold children at their play without being carried back to the days of our childhood, when Ue were one of those Uee things and loved to gambol on the green sward, and gather buttercups in the fields. Many little garden have ace made m the dust, loaded ourselves with many big posy, chased many young butterfly and young bird in those early days. How light was our heart then How bithe our spirit, with scarce a taint of care With what speed and rapture we bounded to o,lr merry playfellows! How we shouted, ran and lcaPt for joy! Sweet days of our child hood! How bright ye were! Why pass ed ye so soon away! Why were ye so f1eeting and so transitory! In our depress- ed and sorroWful moments, when care sits gloomily on our brow, when troubles en- compass us, and weight of sadness lies at our heart, we cast an eye back to the morn- ing of our life, and from it's uncloudcd sum- niness cheering ray steals into our soul, and dispels for a time all gloom. What would we not give to be a child once more
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF BEAUTY.
 It dispOses to order. It gives birth in the mind to an instinct of proprlety. It suggests imperceptiby, it incines gently, but ire sistibly. to the fit action, to the word in sea- son. The beauty which we see and feel plants its seeds in us. Gazing with delight on nature, our will imperceptibly becomes attuned to the same harmony. The sense of beauty is attended with the same reverence We dare not mar what looks so perfect.- This sense, too, has a something like con- science contained in it; we feel bound to do and be ourselves as something worthy of the beauty we are permitted to admire. This leeliag. while it makes alive and quickens yet is cminently conservative, in the best sense. He who has it, is always interested on the side of order, and of all dear and hal lowed associations He who wants it. is as destructive as Goth. The presence of beauty, like that of nature, as soon as we feel it at all, overcomes Us with respect, and a certain sensitive dread of all violence, mis- chief or liscord. The beautiful ideal piece of architecture bears no mark of wanton pcn-knitc. The handsome school-roorn makes the children neat. The instinct of obedience, of coDciliaton, of decorum, reve- renee, and harmony, flows into the soul with beauty.
 Beauty always suggests the thought of the perfect. The smallest beautiful object is as infinite as the whole world of stars above Us. So we feel it. Every thing beautiful is cn- blematic of something spiritual. Itself linn iied, its meanings and suggestions are infi- nite. In It we seem 10 see all in one. Each beautiful thing, each dew-drop, each true work of painters, poets, or musicians art, seems an epitome of the creation. Is not God revealed thrOugh the senses! Is not every beaHhNl thing divine hint thrown out tQu us? Does not the soul begin to dream of itg ovn boundless capacities, when it has .1ete beauty! Does not immortality then, for the first time, cease to be name, doctrine, and become present experience! When the leaves fall in autumn, they turn golden as they drop. The cold winds tell US of coming winter and death but the deep, still. |