The northern tribune. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1847-1855, 1848-03-16

this river scenery, and splendid moonlight
shed its magic influence over all. Within the
numbering vehicle all is dark. All is silent
too, Just now. The Frenchmen's tongues are
tired and the last wreath of tobacco smoke
"that SO gracefully curled," has vanished
into air. We sit each communing with his
own thoughts. I am steadily looking out on
the succession of charming objects whic h,
infinitely various, seem to glide by US in the
mellow light ; or rather, which seem like
living forms of loneliness mingling in agreeable
disorder now hiding themselves and now
again appearing now moving into line and
now wheeling into circles at this moment
glimmering in the moonbeam, at the next
passing into shadow and finally fading and
receding, to be followed by another series
equally delightful. How nature, inlthe power
of her rich and silent beauty, speaks to the
heart, and open the deep, still fountains Of
thought and of affection How she can
touch the delicate chords of association, and
bring back in airy throngs memories long hid
den in the shadowy chamber of the soul
How she can awaken feelings, sentiments,
yearnings-I know not what to call them-in
the heart, to which language has no power to
give expression, because they are too entirely
of the spirit,-its response to mysterious influ-
ences that breathe upon it unperceived by
sense, uncomprehended EVEN as the tones
of the IEolean harp comes forth, in their wild,
unmeasured sweetness, at the breathing Of the
wind Calmly, sweetly, Silly flows there
through my Utmost being tide of the strange
pleasure thus produced. That lovely meadow
-ah! the bright morning of my childhood
Those overhanging trees with clustering shrubs
all silvery dim-* the bowers in which
used to play with my precious sister, while
my mother-that blessed, sainted mother-sat
by the open door and watched my every mo-
ton! How the pale light quivers on that
stream-I we'll remember gazing at the path
of brightness and fancying it the path to
heaven. Dark rocks with deep shadows-O
those days of sadness now SO distant the
tender thought of them is pleasure So
so their faces are all sweet-tenderly we
loved each -children-happine
-angtls-O that tender music makes me
weep with bliss-never-never-life
heaven - - Where am I what is the
matter Oh ! oh!-Crack confusiOn-whoa!
They have stopped to change horses-I have
been asleep and dreaming-all dream
We found our Hotel at Lyons admirable !;
not a word of English, but attentive servants
and everything as quiet and agreeable as pos
s;ble.-that is with the thermometer at 500 or
thereabou.s. The next day was Sabbath
We went out to look for an English service,
Int failed to find one; and on our return went
into the Cathedral and attended High Mass.
It was the feast of Pentecost and the fete-
loving people of Lyons filed the whole ed'hce
almost literally full. The Observation-Disclosures
as we'll as triAing-disgusted me; but the
music-was magnificent. Inever heard the
like for perfection and grandeur. We heard
similar afterward in two or three churches'
hut none that equalled this. A concluding
niece, however, sung in one of the churches
at yespers, by female voices only, with great
sweetness and just in the twilight greatly
delighted me. Each stanza ended with
h ,llela-and the melody was wild and rich.
We closed the day quietly at our lodgings.
CONCLUDED TOMORROW
.p,, boarding OUT as the loafer said, when he