Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1855-04-11
APRIL 2A.
Woodland Reveries.

fragrant breeze and the voice OF the turtle
dove calls in the vale, cooling to its mate
With a gaudy dress Of purple and gold, and
with a jaunty toss of the head, the blue
bird, the robin and the bob-o-link sit among
the bursting buds and opening bloom and
welcome the coming Spring with a birding
chorus. The s9eckled quail in the hedge
screams a shrill Bob White to its mate
In the meadow, and we know that the Spring
time is again upon US. How swiftly they
come and go! The span from Spring to
Spring seems shorter as the pilgrimage Of
life draws to its close. But as the brow
grows furrowed and the locks whiten, the
Spring is none the less charming. Sweet
Spring! Fragrant breezes and sunny skies
make her advent always beautiful and by
and by, the blue daisies, the buttercups, and
blue bells, the song Of the birds in boughs ;
and the low hum of the bees in the hive will
Join with n thousand other attributes to make
her more charming and crown her with glo-
ry. So may a bright Spring-time come to
those who have had q long Winter of sor-
row, and q bird-song be given for the solemn
dirge, which has been chanted in the cham
bers Of the stricken heart and over the grave
of buried hope.
GENIus is the gitof God-=Anrnperty that
cannot be bought with the merchandise of
gold and of silver. See the ambitious man
and the unassuming lark. Men dig pits in
the earth and build towers pointing towards
the sky while the lark, u feeble creature,
sits in its grassy nest gathering strength to
bear his thrilling, native song of genius up
to the sun in the bright heavens above
Man plans a stately edifce after the fashion
Of the old master the incessant click of the
hammer and chisel is heard, and slowly rise
the stately column and lordly architrave,
dome and tower. In time the sky piercing
spire is tipped and FURNISHED with bright
and yellow gold, and the result of cultivated
genius stands perfect and written over with
wonder: then up springs the poor lark from
its grassy nest, and with an airy circuit
makes the pinnacle his midair footing and
there, poised and without fear on his celes-
tial perch, no pours out the wild song in in
stinctive worship Of his Maker till his gol-
den foothold trembles. with his celestial sym.
phony. And when his song is ended, he
scars away on trusty wing to fill his exhaus-
ted heart Mt the pure fountain of the sun,
and as his feathered form becomes a waving
speck on the sky, the men below who built
the temple and the pinnacle look up the
gilded spire and shout in wonder-not in
honor Of the FURNISHED shaft, but to the lark
tant sky
INDIVIDUAL talents do not benefit one man
alone, but are gifts in common to the world !;
every one has a share therein, for every one
is blest or cursed by the actions of the pos
SCISSOR. Talents are given of God, and man
is the trustee. Human talents are a light.
house, designed to cast a light upon the dark
and dangerous sea Of life-a beacon thai
shall warn the mariner where lies the fata
breaker and the deadly reef. The man il
but the rock on which the beacon is set AM
the lighthouse built.
"Talents angel bright,
If wanting worth, are shining instruments
In false ambitions hand, to finish faults
Ilustrious, and give infamy renown."
HArpINEss.-Above all, my dear $500
cultivate happiness with all assiduity-nul
ture it rs you do the tender geraniums an
other plants you so dearly prize for if ono
lost, no germ can reproduce it.-Ertrac
from a pirate Letter.
What could the writer mean? The il
junction to cultivate happiness has a di
NAL, hollow, consumptive sound. Happinej
is not a potatoe or pumpkin, to be plantC
in mould and, with phosphate oflime, urge
on to a prodigious growth and manmo
yield. Happiness is n glory, bright as t
sun, shining far down upon earth from t
portals of a distant heaven. Happiness is
heavenly dew, dropping on the languishil
soul on its summer mornings from the g
den and amaranthine bloom of the heaven
hills.
A GENTLE BREEZE sings a sweet melo,
through the boughs overhead, and the your
tendrils of the vine in the hawthorn a
shaken by its invisible fingers so is t
young, the sweet and tender affection oft
shaken and troubled by the slightest breat
ings Of unkindness. The harsh word frc
one the heart has learned to love, chills ma
a soul that could bravely meet the battlea
of hatred or the storm of vindictive SAITH
a shade Of displeasure on the face we 10
is more terrible than the gloom of night.
Strong men can brook these thorns in life
pathway, but they are daggers to the het
Of con6ding, trusting woman, and her e.
lids are often damp with the pearly teardr
wrung from the bitter fountain by the actio
of the one on whom she trusts, and hol
and relies
80. colder than the wind that freezes
Founts, that but now in sunshine play
Is that congealing pang which seizes
The trusting bosom when betrayed"
IL OUR WOODLAND rambles we have b.
caught in a gloomy fog. The sky, that v
just now so blue and bright, is now shrouC
in a pail Of sombre dye. The birds in
boughs have trilled a farewell note and flo
away to the barn to shelter under the du
%rafters. A gloomy day Such come u
us sometimes mentally when the natl
sky is bright as that of Eden. Moth
seems in place we see only misery, cru
and improvidence. The world seems tt
without n sun or n God, and given owe