The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1851-12-20
AN IRTsn MOoRLANp.

IN the last number Of Harper's MAearins
We Gnd a very beautifully written sketch Of
a "seone from Irish life." We make an eS-
tract ola very graphic description or the out
ward appearance nr that ~ fAted Island,
The eprse of ireland wes On the pihee.
Landlord sed tenant, gentleman and peasant,
each with the roots aud the shoots Of many
virtues in their hearts, thrown into false po-
slion by the mutual injuries Of ages, had
wroaked on each other the miserics sown
broadcast by their ancestors. Beneath this
foul spell men Who would. in any other cir
eumsiAnees, have been the happicst and The
noblcst Of mankind, became tyrAnis and
peasants. who would have glowed with CRATE
Gal affection towards him, exulicd in being
their assassins As tho traveller rode past
the decAying hail. the gloomy woods, and
waste black moorlAnds Of Spofecn he read
the riddle of IrciAnd'a fate, and asked him
self when an dSdpus would arise tn solve H.
Tho uoorland was wide, level and black ;
black as night, you could suppose night con
dcnse,l on the surfacn OF the earth. aud that
YOU could tread on solid dark ness in tho midst
of day, The day itself was fast dropping IN
to night, although IL was drcary and gloomy
At the best for il was No, y,nhcr day. The
moor, four miles around, was trcclcss and
houselcss; devoid n vegetation, except hca-
thcr, which clad with iu gloomy hicze coat
the shiycring landscape. Alta distance you
could discern, through the misty atmosphere,
the outline Of mountains apparently as bare
and stony as this wilderness which they boun-
dcd. There were no fields, no hedgcrows, no
marks OF tho hand OF man, except the max cd
ness itself which was the work Of man in past
ages when. period SNsr period he had tram
ped over the scene with FRO and sword and
ftCft nit ttat roti,l net before him. either
ashes 20 he scattered by the savage winds, or
stems of trees, and carcAsseS of men trodden
into the swamPy earth. A. ihc Roman His
torian said OF other dcstroycra, They created
solitude aud called il peace" That all this
was the work of man, and not Of Nature, any
one Spot NJ rTiTiv iIuJ-r +A-haaling wildcrnes.
could testify, II you would only turn its
sadie surface. In is bosom lay thousands or
ancient oaks and pines, black As ebony, which
told, by their gigantic bulk. that forests mnst
have once existed on this spot, as rich rs the
scene was now bleak. Noblcr things than
trees lay buried there but were, for the
most part, resolved into the substance Of the
inky earth. The dwellings of men had lci,
few or no traces, for they had been consumed
in flames and the hearts that hail loved, and
suffered and perished beneath the hand Of
violence aud insult, were no longer human
hearts, but slime. If man were carried
blindiold to that place and asked when bis
I eyes unbandAged where he was, he would say
"Ireland"
Ho would want no clew the identity Of the
place, but the scene before HIM. There is nc
heath like an, Irish heath There is no desc
lation like an Irish dcsolation. Where ma
turc herself has spread the expanse of a soli
tudc, it is a cheerful solitude The air Aow'
over IL lovingly; the flowers nod, s..:i dane,
in glAdncss the soil breathes upa spirit Of
wild fragrance, which communicates buoy
ant sensation TO the heart. You feel that yot
tread on ground where the peace Of God, ant
not the "peace" OF man, created in the merci
less hurricane OF war, has sojourned; whcr,
the sun shone on creatures sporting on grounc
or on tree, as the Divine Goodness OF the u
inverse meant them to sport where the hun
' tor disturbed alone the enjoyment Of the low
or animals by his own bois;erous joy; wher
the traveller sung as he went over il ;bccaus
he felt spring Of inexpressble music in hi
. heart, whore tholwcary wayfarer sat bcneatl
4 a bush, and blessed God, though his limb
!, ached with travcl, and his goal was far off,
!. In. Gods deserts dwells gladnessi in man
deserts, death. A melancholy smites you a
you enter them. There is darkness fror
! }, the past that envelops your heart, and tn
= means and sighs Of ten times pcrpclrated mis-
:. cry seem still to live in ,hc very winds.
G A FOxsS REVENGE.