American Republican and Baltimore daily clipper. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1844-1846, 1846-08-05
FLOR the American Republican,.
A PIC MIC PARTY.

anu SeCOnuly, BECAUSE IL VIII call up teCOIlec-
tions of pleasure only in those who were part-
cipants, and feelings of regret in some who
were net participants. But modestly presum-
ing, that the same kindness which permitted
our fugitive notice to have corner in your
sheet then, would also eye with complacency, a
similar attempt no,C, we have made bold, TO
appear before you once more with the mantle
Of narrative on our shoulders. Hanging, then,
the scissors on the nail, leaving the battles, ta-
tiff discussions, balls, marriages, and the differ
ent watering places, TO take care of themselves,
and sending the -- round the corner to buy
a fps worth of gingerbread-we will seat you
on your editorial chair, in state of clairvoy-
ance;-you will then find yourself in ponder
Gus vehicle, perched upon the drivers seat; the
contents of said vehicle, mostly young and
blooming specimens of creations ''last, most
perfect work, and you will find yourself now
and then, unconsciously engaged in the agree
able occupation of surveying their charming
faces. Delightful day, this! the sun has taken
a morning bath in the mist and dew, and shines
out clearly and brightly. As we 90 along the
road gets less dusty, flower pots in second sto-
ry windows begin to disappear, and the natives
ofthe garden show themselves where they have
room to breathe and expand. Touch the flank
of that wheeler, his feelings are evidently not
excited, and give the leader little more REIN
he is in for irolic Bless u.s. we have dropped
our umbrella-no we hav'nt, there it is, snugly
reposIng behind us. Valued companion! how
often have we taken shelter beneath thine out
spread wings, while all around us was water
dribbed; particularly. valuable in these days,
when the sky, overheated and excited, like hui
man nature, generally goes off in a flood of
tears We are nearing our destination; the old
woods appear in all their glory, the hills group
themselves around with their green coverings,
the stream goes on the even tenor of its way
and we are here. Yes!-we are standing, old
oak, beneath thy green boughs, and the re-
mains ofthe old swing still hang pendant from
thee;-we are again going to frolc in our rus
tic swlng-we are again going to frighten the
guardian Dryad from thy nesting branches.
And here we stand where the notes of angelic
voices lulled our spirits, where the songs of
home and affection were echoed by mount and
wood. Twelve months have rolled over our
heads, thousand cares have traversed our DO.
SONS, Thousand voices have poured their dis
cordant notes into the avenues Of our senses,
but every note and tenor comes back again.
not one lost, not one forgotten. We are all
here, but the leaves which gave their shade and
zephyrs that played upon US, have gone-the
one to their mother earth, and the other to dis :.
port amidst other groups and shades.
But we are getting prosaic, and will therefore
seat ourselves beside thy tufted bank, gentle
stream, (not Atom and there let the murmurs
of thy cool water roll into our soul and steep it
in the soft dreams of the spirit land. Bending
over thy pure surface, we will behold the sports
and fancies Of thy children of the fin and the
silver scales. Trout, gudgeon and sunfsh! we
summon you, by the bright eyes of the charmer
at our side, to hasten from your dark hooks,
and show US your best performances, show us
your highest leap, show US your deepest dive,
and do not act the cannibal before US, by gulp-
ing down some little innocent, who is display
ing the ease and grace Of his movements to us.
But bark, the shrill whistle, and hear the crash
of the cars as they fly by us,-to your hooks,
each one of you'll hide beneath the root of the
beech, and the jut Of the clff-,oe are not
frightened, for we know they are freighted with
friends and brothers, for we take off our hats as
they pass by us, and give our kindliest smiles
in answer to theirs. But while thus soliloquis-
ing, our party has left us, and we must up and
after them. Some have gone TO gather nose
gays and evergreens, some have taken the sheep
path up the hills, while others are picking the
ripe berry from the stem, and afterwards per-
forming the less agreeable occupation of pick
ing the sharp thorn from their soft flesh. AS
we are somewhat vagrant, we plucked nose
gay and threw it away again; we also followed
the sheep track up some distance, but, before
we knew it, were tracing our steps back again;
we dipped into few berries, some of them
rather green, although to our eye, they looked
the ripest, quitting us in mind of the man with
high sounding title but shallow depths, of long
visage but empty UNDERSTANDING and we then
found ourselves in close proximity to bevy of
who were going to seat themselves
on the smooth surface of the "mossn rock In
continently, we trudged after them, giving |
variety to our occupation, by slyly pelting some
laughing damsel before us, and then playing
he innocent, while her eager eyesf fowned
lround to detect the offender. The rock is
the bonnets are thrown aside, the
waving curls dance defiance TO the zephyrs
hat play with it; the blue eyes reflect the sky
around them, and the hazel ones, the waters
beneath them,-the face assumes the serenity,
Ghich fills the mind and glads heart-smles
yreothe the lips. Shrily the locust winds his
iorn above US, and the Peet-wheet of the fly
catcher is family heard in the distance; the ca
erpiiar hangs in its chrysalis over our heads,
halfsuspended between heaven and earth; the
.hIrruP OF the wood cricket sounds from the
hicket, and the low murmurs of the stream
Ilide into our ears and hearts We sat and
istened, and then we involuntarily poured out
,ur 81 lad songs; for we too, were children of the
ood-we too, could follow the mock-brd in his
widest notes, or syllable thought in as gentle
note as the crickets. The pcet-wheet of the
ly.catcher was hushed, the horn of the locust
wound up, the chirrup from the cricket ceased
uddeny, and the woods took mp the song, and
he sky reverberated it, as if unseen spirits were
here to welcome and follow us,-spnits of
mother, or sister, or brother, long time in their
graves, but now floating around and above us,
md mnghng their strains with ours. Sweet
wood, sweet strains, ye will live a long time
n our hearts-ye will cheer us in the din and
turmoil of the city-ye will float round us