New-York daily tribune., 1843-04-25
BY y. = WILLIE,


LETTER FROM TllE AoIOh,
ro crxr1gxAs SHEPHERD II THE COUNTRY.
y. F.wrLLI,.
WHEN | am out of temper, my dear Pastor
Fido. YOU are sure to hear from me, for can only
be tranuuilized by remembering the trystlng-
places of the handmaldens OF Peace-tbe sheep-
walks and pastures where your locks browse
and where, first and only, those daInsels OF con-
tent vouchsafed to minister to me. CONSIDER me-
therefore. as mentally sitting on that - old gray
stone where we have gosslped away many
noteless hour, and dscoursing to you OF what has
befallen me since we partcd-trifes OF course
but the sands OF my life are trfles, manly
For week after left you, was the baggage
slave, {oricntaIly speaking winch all men arc
who travel IN this land, more free than easy with
nine articles of baggage, three hand-baskcts, q
baby. greyhound, and two ladies, and the shawls,
fans and umbrellas heremto appertalnlng, made
INV yexed way to Massachusetts; and never dnit-
logs in freshct. never sands In eddy, never
bank bills in my pocket and yours, were more dh
fcnIt 10 be kent tooetber With the loss Of but
one portmantcau however, one shawl and ba-
bv's blanket, we reached the station OF Chatham;
and here found time TO breathe, for while dlscn-
caring the brass tickets from my sundry et-cete-
ras, the Stockbrdgc tram went OIL and left us,
and the twelve mortal hours we passed upon that
portico in the desert, were the calm after the
whirwind Truly there are few great matters
more abominably mlsmanaged than the railroad
depots at Albany and thence westward. But
who shall put IA hook in the nose of this great
Lcviathan
Lovely Is Stockbridgc, as Carlyle would phrase
it. and, indeed there is no lack Of delicious
scenery IN the country this side the Hudson. Van
Rensselaer's princely residence, opposite Albany
as the centre Of twenty circle Of as beautiful
d country the sun shines upon, and tlc terrace
of the Housatonc, on which Stockbndge stands
is gem set IN landscape, TO which you can scarce
find a parallel. | was enchanted with this sweet
village and VIC could rsmhle away our summers
{yon and | and two more in It's neighborhood OF
dell and bright water, with the content OF the
Happy Valley. AS this is mortal world, low
cver somewhat modified by the quality OF pabu-
Ium and porridgc, perhaps you would like to know
that the village inn OF Stockbrdge is as worthy of
the soioum of Geoffrcy Crayon as the Red Horse
of Stratiord-on Avon. All praise to mlne host
Mr.. Galpin. His house is a fit accompaniment
to the quiet and lovely lap of nature in which 1t
lies.
am wary of the cutters of Manhattan during
the summer solstice-warv at least for the lungs
of those love--and leaving my people and pos
sessions on the banks Of Miss Scdgwicb's river
(hers as the Avon is Shakspeares) | made my
bachelor way to the city over the highways otron
and water. | write now from my old quarters in
the eRfresol of the Astor. You liked not these
aow-rooied dormltores. l-sparlng OF my legs
and patient of the whitcwaSt on my hat-prclcr
them to the sky parlors reserved for the perse
cutcd company OF single gentlemen. have
something else to do than climb two hundred feet
to wash my hands before dinner. Here, III tins
attanable hat.story, albeit my hat Is crushed INTO
a cap whenever rise without uncovcring, can
feel that am within reach ofmortal succor-au-
dible on earth should see fit to cry aloud in my
extremity. To those who inhabt the upper sto
ries OF this great caravanscrai q hotel must seem
but the ground floor Of the stars--the Astor cor
rupton of ad Astra. Lie low say
There is a new feature, as you know, in most
of our cities. The once gloomy Styx is turned
into an Elvsan suburb. Philadelphia has It's ro-
mantle cemetery, and Boston It's Mount Auburn,
tthe most desirable solourn about Boston, think
ii is) and Newly ork has It's Greenwood Gene.
tery and the last have never visited till yester-
day. My gay friend Barney was my ghostly con-
ductor and could go willingly to duller place
than the Elvsian fields under his cheerful convoy.
But do YOU not know what spot of cnctantment
1t is--this realm OF the dead To which Ncw-Sork
is the crowded vestibule Go there, nv dear
Shepherd, while Your bearers viii bring YOU back.
For myself, love contrast so well that though
would not be hangedl | would willingly be a
pendulum swung INTO mld-city at morning and
snto E!ysium al tn!ght-( Elysium proper, mean
From the Astor, which is the hight of living, to
zhis lovely cemetery, which is the very poetry Of
the shadowv valley, would be a daily pilgrimage
for one who had time and horses, that | could
well envy. Oh how beautiful are those dells and
acchvitieS, with the dead strewn over them How
shadowv and fragrant are those winding paths
how deep and still Is the calm watcr--how sunny
are the openings hither and thi,her, if the sun
were come 10 look for ms lost mnions-tor the
beauty he had warmed SO lovingly, for the genius
whose lamp he had been, for the grace. power and
intelligence that had ceased 10 wake with his
rising. There seems not bank where YOU ght
not lie as If in the lap of cherlshng friendship
held there in protected sumber tll the great
awaking. The whole scenery is inviting, and TO
Il weary heart. weary of the world, many hearts
are, I should think visit 70 these gates out of
life would go lar TO make the grave pathway 10
a land of desire.
By the way. some ChrlStian--somc noble Chris
nan, whose name think was on the stone tablet,
and am ashamed to have forgotten it--has erect
cd Il vault on one of those shadowy and seQues,
tered hillsideS and eonSecrted II TO the strangers
who die III the hotels oil the city. God bless the
lofty heart that conceived thus swec; charity
The portal of the vault looks down upon the Sc
rene lake overShadowed with ferest-trees, and is
perhaps the ovelicst OF these touching localities
Let those who send their friends away, part from
them hght.hearted. II they die from home, they
will at least he put to sleep where love would Itself
have bestowed them They viii at lesSt lie where
the tender aud conte,npla,ive VIII pass by, where
nature is smiling and serene, where sweet thoughts
hourly 90 IN TO them from those who ,re touched,
ne ,c, ,ror.. ,,.;,b the HES. humanity of the asy