The Davenport daily gazette. [volume] (Davenport, Iowa) 1856-1869, 1856-09-03
For tht unfetsss
e"MuncAL IKsrrruTr.'
} Norah n adm 4. N ass "a uO AZ, 'A6.

chsngeful beauty OF the scene before nae,
and iis,ening to the waves of melody that
lnger TREMENDOUSLY in the air, as they roll
onward towards the Infinite. No murmurs
fall upon my ear from the great busy world
Of turmoil and excitement, for God alone
speaks from every quiyering leaf, and every
sunbeam thu, aashee from yonder ripping
waters
Frs, in the foreground OF the picture is
q tree, the leaves Of which can jus, reach
from my window. They are s,ill now, and
me,ionless, but sometimes listen for
hours to their low rushing. i.reminds me
Of the tree that used to shade my room Al
home, and the many times when the soit
tansis of the wind. sighing through its
branches, has lulled me to sleep. Thcre
were Eaany trees in the yard at home, and
call them mine s,ill. although stronger
hearts respond to the same voices tia, used
10 speak to mine. Yet not the same
to them, for they have not listened
through the long yesrs Of childhood .
sseh changing tone. from the seit mutmur,
waksned by the hghtest breeze, 10 the
grand chorus that echoed back the voice Of
tie tempest. Oh no. they can never love
these trees as do, linked, as they are,
with the first bright dresms OF life
Just at the foot Of The hi!l i il Gltle
stream, swollen BY the recent rains until /.
is almost river, My eyes followed il
| winding like thread OF silver among the
| trees, until i, is lost in the thick shadow OF
The forest. On the other side is the hill,
with irs white cottages Peening from t.e
dark foliage. In the distance are other hills
fading into long line Of blue, and bali veil
| ed by the soft haze Of the atmosphere
The last rays Of the setting sun are stream.
| ing now through clouds Of crimson and gold,
| and dissolving in food of rosy light that
softens the pale, pure azure Of the upper
sky. How the soul grows fresh and strong
as il turns from the stern, sad realities OF
life, and breaihes the spirit OF happiness
aud love, that rises, like incense, from our
besut iful world.
|, is the hour for evening rehearsal at
the Musical Institute: and, while ! write,
the sublime strains OF Handefs choruses
are falling upon my ear. There is some
| hing almost unearthly in the wild grandeur
Of these hsrmonies, as they echo among
the silent hills. Strange power of song!-
How madly the bounding current Of life
isshes onward, as each ch ord of the inner
being thrills responsive 10 the electric fir e
Of genius, and then grows calm agsin, as
the last echoes die away in mournfal gran.
deur calm in the very intensity Of un-
| fathomed feeling. Not now, not here may
we enter the temple OF the Ideal, al whose
portals We have caught The distant muir
| nur Of spirit harnoniss. But the golden
gates will not always be closed, aad these
ain, resealings make Us strong and hope
'ul, sending little rays q light away through
he misty tu,ure,-suoh light as always
shines clearly and distinctly from the lamp
which God has Ii, in the artists soul.
Last week awaited myself Of the oppor-
unity of attending the anniversary ex erci.
yes of bit. Holyoke Seminary. Attractive
Is such an occasion always must be TO
those .ho feel "a interest in educational
advancement, to me IT was doubly interest
ing. There had ended my sehooI-daysi
aad now had come home again; bu, it was
no longer home, with that ses Of strange
faces all around me. The house seemed
desol,te, yet il was crowded ; and / wake
,uI into the grounds 10 seek relief from the
strange oppression. The same old trees
wer there still, ius, as when ! used TO eli
far hours beneath them, gazing into the biti
OF blue sky that giinnered through tbs
caves, slmos, fsncying that could fathon
The pure, clear depths ofinhnity. No won
ler that the youth Q Athens loved to lister
to heteschin2s Of the immortal Plato il
The groves OF Academus. Strange tina:
more do not now love to listen TO One
night-r than Plato, who speaks always in
, the glorious temple o, Nature, soothing til
spirits wild unrest, and miugling hope witt
its intense Iongings for the "Far.of, unat
. tanned, and dim"
Il was sitting BY the brook, on The sam.
! stone beside which used TO sit with ny
book, thinking il would be easier TO learn
the hard, dry lesson away from those close
walls. But the letters rs0al!d grow DIM ,snd
thought lcsud away 10 the fairy land Of
dreams. How swiftly the little TRY pala-
ces went up, and, alas, bow quickly they
came down again. The song Of the little
brook was always joyous then, bat nov
there seemed 10 be "a undertone, not ex-
actiy sad, but vibrating with the deep,
voiceIe.s m1sic Of lite. 1t used TO be GLAD
melody, that rippled 90. into the air Ike
the music that gushes from the heart whea
only the spring Of joy has beea touched
Other chords base beea added since, and
| the harmony seems iUller. sadder, perhaps
as i moduls,es into tie rich minor; hat /.
is deeper, and IoTe il better as each new
modDlstion varies the eser-ehanging lyr.c
Of lie Perhaps, after oil, the change Is
in the spirit that listens and interprets, bu,
i, is all The same. We Judge things as
they seem, not as they really are
The familiar tones OF he Seminary bell
interrupted the current Of thought, and re-
called me to present scenes and present
duties. Many day-dEeam had it dispe!lec
before with il5 visions or broken rules and
reprosehfui looks. Happily | hsd no ac-
count 70 render now, at least so thought
as slowly reuscsd nay steps to Tie house
The exercise were interesting, as they al
ways are. but many times ny though.s
Played trusut, and wandered away into tie
past, until everything around grew misty
and faded before my eyes. The graduating
c as. numbered iOr,y.aine. The address
~a delivered by Rev. DR.. Fisher, OF Gu
c ans,i, and closed with stirring appeallo
Ii ,se y no we're that day u bid adi.a u
9 ,hool-dsyt. sad q forth 10 act ia the grea,
drama Of life. Tfem0l,ngIy standing be
tween memory and hope, there was need 81
strength aud eacourag snent ere they step
= I.