Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1850-11-22
REcE1vED.-The Westminster Review, LEONARD

REcE1vED.-The Westminster Review, LEONARD
Scorr g. Co., publishers, N. York.
JOHN S. TAYLOR, 143 Nassau Street, New York.
has sent us g Letters from the Backwoods, and the
AdiIondac," by Rev. J. T. HEADLEY, which is quite
readable affair HEADLEY's style is rather pompous,
or rather, it displays constant straining after effect
which frequently lead to the employment of figures
and expressions anything else than chaste CLASH
CAL yet on the whole his language is generally pic
turesque, and sometimes beautiful. We quote
part of the first chapter a specimen of the work.
We think readers will concur in opinions that
it is really fascinating.
Mount Tahawus.
can scarcely believe, as stand this evening and
look around on the forest that grdles in and
hear naugh but the dash of the waterfall the base
of yonder gloomy mountain the rapid song of the
whipporwil it rings like the notes of fife through
the clear air, that stood few days ago in Broad
way, and heard only the surge of human life as it
swept fercely by The change could not be greater
if had been transferred to another planet. The
paved street changed for the mountain slope-the
rattle of omnibuses and carriages for the rush of
streams and music of wind amid the tree tops-the
voices of the passing multitude for the song of birds
and chrp of the squirrel 1t seems but day since
stood where the living current rolls strongest and
felt perfectly at home amid the walled houses and
packed city yet now the trees shake their green
awning my head, and the great luminous stars
sparkle in the intensely clear sky that to rest
its bright arch almost the tops of the tall hem
locks, New York appears like past dream Oh,
how quiet nature is In New York, everything is in
a hurry. There is not man there that walks the
streets who to be at leisure. Even the horses
catch the hurrying spirit and everything goes tear
ing along if the minutes were crowded with great
events. But look See how lazily that tree swings
| A. IL
goes talking to itself through the forest-and how
lesurcly the very clouds swing themselves over the
evening heavens! Just stand here moment on the
edge of this clearing and listen to the sounds that
rise the evening air. The drowsy tinkle of the
cowbel sinks like long forgotten music on the heart
while the scream Of the night-hawk far up in the
heavens seems like voice from the spirit world It's
dusky form glances now and then on the eye, and
then is lost in the far upper regions while his cry
perces clear and shrill through the gloom telling
where his pinion still floats him onward The smoke
of the clearing wreaths in slow and spiral columns
skyward while the whistle of the woodman, as he
| shoulders his and wends his weary way to his
Jog hut, is the only human sound that dsturbs the
tranquility of the And the twilight deep
ems all. The fire of the distant facw flashes ur
in the darkness and the cry of the boding owl comes
like voice of warning the ear How, under the
influences of such scene, the heart throws off link
after link of its bondage and the soul loses it's stern
ness and fierce excitement, and become subdued as a
chilGs! The man sinks before the early dreamer
and dear associations come thronging back on the
staggering memory like sad angels and the spirit
reaches forth its after the good and the true
At least it is with me and the presence of nature
changes so that scarcely know myself. A new
class of feelings and emotions is awakened within
new hopes and new resolutions spring to birth
think of that unseen world towards which am
rapidly borne and of the mysteries of the life that
surrounds In NJ York, life is all practical and
outward. Action action. action is the constant cry,
and action it is till thought gets frightened away
Ice-cream saloons--crowds on crowds of prOmena-
ders--the rattle of wheels-the ringing of the fire
bells, and continuous rising like the
ALL the contrasts your city presents to the
have been describing. The night closes over
haunts of vice. dens of infamy the gambling house,
and the drunken reyel Behold how peacefully it here
shuts down the forest where the wild bird has
gone to sleep beside its mate, and not restless
holy spirit is abroad
And then the morning--how different! The morn
ing in New York is always associated in my mind
with markets. Soon the mounts the dusty
heavens. New Yorks seems to open its mouth and
rush for the markets But here by the forest, the
unclouded sun wheels with lordly majestic motion
above the mountain ten thousand birds seem to have
awakened at once | would you could listen mo-
ment 1t Is perfect storm of sound. From the
soft MARBLE of the Robin to the shrill of the
woodpecker there is every variety of note, and yet
all in accord. l said nature was quiet and every
moving thing at leisure but was mistaken. These
birds seem to be in hurry, if they had not time
to utter all their music and they pour forth ir
such rapid thrilling strains, that the is perfectly
confused.