The hydraulic press., 1860-03-24
For Me Press.
For We PfeSS.
A SABBATH STROLL.

friend Editor Perhaps you can spare to
a chance scribbler some space among your
mining, agricultural and road-building ar
ticles, for an account of stroll had by me
last Sunday in the vicinity of this fair town
with the barbarous name, or rather. trinity
of names. The day was clear and lovely
one of Gods smiles. Not cleud sailed
across the upper deep, while all Nature be-
low was full of indications Of approaching
Spring. The sunny air glittered with spor-
tive insects-with silvery-winged ephemera
whose Office in the great universe was filled
and their gay moments numbered e, en- while
looked. A few bold wasps crawled from
their shelter in decayed wood, and exposed
their yellow beauties to the warmth. Even
some ants, weary of hibernation, yentured
few inches ffem home, nor trembled as the
shadows of hy's wing fell across their path
Yellow breasted robins were chirping in ad-
jacent trees, at safe distance above the
murderous-minded cat who was basking in
the sunshine. Through the open window
tions to walk forth. These, after a brief
struggle with the languor engendered by
sedentary habits, accepted, and crawed
like slug from my lair. Going down Main
street, through crowd of noisy men who
had been drawn from the saloons and stores
by the magnetism of dog fight, and past
lager-beer shop, where a stiff inebriate was
brawling out between his hiccoughs--' -''To
my home in the wild wood, white man let
me go-o-o-o l"-I reached, at last, the quiet
hills that girt our village, and felt their s'si-
lence sink like music on my heart" Here
are peach and nectarine in bloom, rosy as
the cheeks | kissed twenty years ago, and
sweet as the lips dared not kiss. Here be-
hind the same neat palings, is bed of clo-
ver-wonder if there are any four-eaved
plants in it? Violets are perfumng the air
and matching the hue of yonder glorious
mountain, where the long afternoon shad-
ows trail among the pines like robes, and
thin wreaths Of smoke arise as from Druid
affairs. All! 1t is rather warm work climb
ing this hill. Hear the dry cones dropping
from the boughs where they hung for yearl
How the oaks are budding!-a month earlier
than last year; and among the mahogany
branches and thick, waxen leaves of the
manzanita bell-shaped pink blossoms swing
in thick clusters. The buckeye is thrusting
forth spears of vanished vcrdure, and on
moist slopes, or along winding ravines, the
meadia is opening its purple, red and snowy
petals, or the golden bnttercup is typfying
the auriferous treasures of the SOIL But
must really sit on this fallen pine few mo-
| ments. Oh heavenl What an entrancing
view There, five hundred feet below me,
on one side, is our village, made picturesque
by distance, its many colored houses seat
monumental pines that the axe has spared
and its porched cottages, its orchards of
pink bloom, its bright new fences of yellow
| pine enclosing freshly springing grains and
grasses, its ploughed fields, its reservoirs
that glitter in the sun as though their waters
were pure as the summit lakes-all blend
into such picture as only Nature paints
And then such a frame OF purple, and blue
and violet mountains, as stretch around it
in lines of beauty; such suggestive depths
of canons, whence f1imsy vapors are curling
up to be dyed in crimson at sunset such
dark gulches scanning that Titan wall. on
whose broad sides are grand forests breath
| ing melody and spicy odors; snch high aud
cleaning peaks of snow along the horizon
beyond; ah, who shall describe all this p
Who shall paint with glowing words, or ste
reoscope in accurate phrase, the vale OF
Shawmut which stretches in soft perspective
on the other side of the hill where sit, a
vast amphitheater scooped among noun
tains whose SUBMITS have been gilded by ten
thousand sun sets? Ouly the coming poe
who is growing up now: perhaps, amid the
daily baptism of this sublime scenery and
balmy climate. His finely glancing eye will
see these rugged slopes made beautiful with
terraced vineyards, and blossoming gardens,
and cottages clinging to the rock like bird
nests; every vale and hollow tenanted and
titled by brave, vigorous and contented peo-
pie, native to these elevated regions; every
grand peak and charming landscape lowered
with name and legend. How that church
bell throbs through the blue ether, and
| dashes its waves of sound against the purple
mountains Did man ever hear better
sermon than its iron tongue breaches p
How it sprinkles the air with holy sounds,
that the evening breeze catches and tosses
about as it WILL now bringing them near
and loud like an alarum, then bearing them
far away ntil they are faint as dream music,
or hurting them into the echoing chasms
where trees and rivers roar in unison Th;s