The Polynesian. [volume] (Honolulu (Oahu), Hawaii) 1840-1841, 1841-01-09

~, 90 =, much in it, that, except III relation
Il hi. own home, there were the same vague
"A i strange notion in his brain, concerning
y s,n;e of things unding him, as we
/ We of foreign land.
3rhc main feeling, which this self: made
~ arid excited in him, was love, and, like
= IT Of his are, he had formed to himself Il
,c suited to his own tancies This was
II r,mance of lie and though men with
mds like his. make Imagination to stand
Gcnti,ncs in the place OF real existence, and
4 take to itself as deep feeling and concern,
H. in domestic relations, which are so near
q / usual. aud private, they feel longer and
2 ,re deeply than those who took upon their
Hnes as only better part Of the world
|ILirh they belong to. Indeed, in alfectionatc
Shd 90 ID men of IA visionary cast, it is in
Nmc sort only renlizing their hopes and
&sres. to turn them homeward, Arthur
IN iha, it was 50, and he loved his house
II IA the more that they gave him an earnest
&oac day realizing all his hopes and attach
cnis
ia Arthnr's was peculiarly dear to him, in
x,yinr character so much like his own.
for. though the cares and attachments Of
|1hc had long ago taken the place Of li,nci
III existence in her. yet her natural turn of
Mad was strong enough to give to these
|&ncthing of the romance Of her disposition.
1his had led to a more than usual opcnncss
H. intimacy between Arthur and his mother
hi now brought to his remembrance the
rnurs they had sat together by the freight,
Then he listened to her mild melancholy
Nice. as she spoke of what she had under
r ,ne at the loss Of her parents and husband.
err gentle rcbuke Of his faults, her ancc-
{ oaatc look of approval when he had done
He'll, her care that he should be Il ,Ist man,
ID her mothery anxiety lest the world
mould 90 hard with him, all crowded into
s mind, and he thought that every worldly
1tachmcnt was hereafter to be Il vain thing.
4 lie had passed the night between violent,
lmuuous grief and numb insensihiIity.
1tcpping into the carriage, with il slow weak
bottom, like one who was quitting his sick
0,amber for the first time, he began his
Surney homeward. As he lifted his eyes
1bward the few stars that were here and
Here over the sky, seemed to look down in
IT., and shed religions and healing light
BON him, But they soon went out, one
aNer another and as the last faded from his
&plorng sight, it was as if every thing good
I'D holy had iorsaken him, The faint tint
y the cast soon became ruddy glow, and
Re sun shooting upward, burst over every
1v,ng thing in full glory. The sight went
y Ar,hur's sick heart, as lift were in mock
nv of his misery
a Leaning back in his carriage, with his
Mind over his eyes, he was carried along,
hardly sensible that it was day. The Old
BRYANT Thomas, who was sitting by his
6dc, went on talking in low, monotonous
bnc: but Arthur only heard something
1bunding in his ears, scarcely needed that
was human voice. lie had~a sense of
Searsomcncss from the motion Of the car
iage, but in all things else the day passed
= "A melancholy dream.
a Almost the first words Arthur spoke were
bose have mentioned. As he looked out
Upon the setting sun. he shuddcrd through
lls whole fame, and then became sick and
Glle. lie thought he knew the hill near
lim: and as they wound round it, some pc
slllar old trees appeared, and he was in a
hw minutes in the midst of the scenery near
lis home The river before him, rejecting
w. bright evening sky, looked as if poured
eut from a molten minc.-'rhe birds gather
ng in, were shooting across each other,
bursting into short, gay notes, or singing
4elr evening songs in the trees. 1t was IL
Pt'er thing to find all so bright and cheerful,
pd 50 near his own home too, His horses
~. 4