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nor burnt too early, but has time to come to its full ripe maturity through the soft shadowy autumn days. Thus it attains a peculiarly ripe richness. This being the advantage of this whole region in general, the Sosquehanna valley has an additional advantage in its rich possession of all the natural elements of fine scenery. Here indeed are golden mountains, that lie in all shapes and forms of beauty and sublimity under the serene sky of an Indian Summer. First the yellow popular aspen, and Sycamore, and then the red fiery maple, gum, sumach, then the mingling of these or the more sober change of the general forest, till the golden glory spreads all over mountain, hill, slope and valley like a veil, the trai ngs of which are washed by the clear crystal waters of the “Beautiful River" Susquehanna. Then the gem-like islands, a little longer green, but gradually yielding to the power of change, melt into the conquering glory, and by their various vines and creepers, present even richer colors than those which line the shore, whilst the enameling of waters sets apart the "thing of beauty,” seeming to say:
Procul, 0 ! procul este profani,
Conclamat vatos, totoque absistite luco! which, being interpreted, means, “Retire ! far from this place, ye profane ; and quit entirely this sacred grove !" Behold, also, as seen from the shore, how the enchantment of distance is over these lovely islands, while beneath, in the waters reflected, lies what might be a fairy world.
But why do we labor to describe adequately what neither poet's pen nor painter's pencil can approach. Much is yet unsaid, unsung, and unseen ; and even those most familiar with the Susquehanna in its moun. tain regions, have yet much to learn of its charming scenery. Its merits in this regard are however becoming more and more known ; but sure we are that, not only strangers, but
Pennsylvanians, are not acquainted with it as they should be, and will become. In this, as in other respects, our staid German State moves slowly and moderately. We undervalue ourselves, and our rich resources of scenery. Our State has been appropriately called “a sleeping giant.” We are ready to praise every thing that is not our own. It is an amiable virtue, but overdone, it becomes a vice. Self-respect has also a place in morals; and we need to turn to that chapter and learn. Our Yankee cousins have praised their Hudson ; their story writers have drawn out myths and legends from its valleys, and their poets have spread the charms of song along its bills; and we have stood looking at them and at that they praise, sing, and immortalize, with open mouths of wonder, whilst unreapt fields of honor to our state and pleasure to our hearts lie in glory before our doors !
It is a shame to us! What, in general, do Pennsylvanians know of the Susquehanna, except that the State has built, and owned, and mismanaged a canal along its banks, about which demagogic politicians have fumed, and on which they have fattened, for years. We have listened, with ears thrown back, to the contentions of office seekers, as to who was best qualified to nibble at this public cheese; and, in these patriotic stump philippics, we have heard that there is a Susquehanna river, and that there is a canal along its course! But what do we as a people, know of its æsthetic riches, its materials for poetry and painting, ita Indian legends, and wonderful wealth of natural scenery, except what we have been taught, by the foreign Poet Campbell, of the sights and scenes where lies
On Susquehanna's side fair Wyoming;
The loveliest land of all
That see the Atlantic wave the morn restore. Happily a better day is coming, and this beautiful region of our State cannot long remain, as it has heitherto, a land unknown. The Northern Central Railway has fortunately been opened up through the greater part of it. We know of no route that can promise more pleasure to an observimg traveller. The road itself is well and substantially built, running along the bank of the river all the way, crossing it at four different places between Bridgeport opposite Harrisburg and Williamsport, over magnificent Bridges, and the whole is under the skillful management of its well-known and gentlemanly and talented General Superintendent, A. B. WARFORD, Esq., of Harrisburg. With a perfect sense of safety the traveler glides along, feeding the eye on as rich natural scenes of beauty and sublimity as the world can produce.
We care not if the moving motive in the construction of this road, has been to open a passage for travel and trade from Baltimore to the Lakes, and to tap the rich coal mines of the Susquehanna hills—we rejoice also, in this ; but to us an object eren higher has been attained by it. It will cultivate in many minds the love of the beautiful, have an important bearing on the public taste, and make thousands, hitherto in the dark in this respect, acquainted with what is the pride and glory of our State-our noble Susquehanna, and its unrivalled natural scenery.
IN LO VE HE CAME.
In love he came and broke it off the stem
LI.- THE WALLET. MELCHER with a well-filled wallet hung over his shoulder, was walking across the field, when Casimer associated himself with him. As they walked along Melcher was speaking all the while of nothing but the faults of others; but in regard to his own faults he was as still as a mouse.
Casimer listened to him for some time in silence, and then said : "It appears to me that you have pnt all the faults of others in that part of your wallet which bangs before you that you may have them ever before your eyes, in order to speak of them and censure them; but your own faults you have put in that part which lays behind you, so that you may not see them or be reminded of them. Turn the wallet round; that will be more profitable to you."
A wise man ever seeks to know
Wherein he sins and fails;
His neighbor's share assails.
LII.-THE SHEPHERD'S FLUTE. A certain King had a treasurer whom he had called to this honorable position from the condition of an humble shepherd. Charges were laid against the treasurer, that he was unfaithful to his trust, and that he had concealed stolen funds and valuable articles in an arched room secured by an iron door.
The King visited his treasurer, viewed his palace, and at length came to an iron door which he requested the treasurer to open. This was done: and as the King entered he was not a little suprised to behold nothing but four bare walls, a plain table, and a mat of straw. On the table lay a sbepherd's flute, besides a shepherd's crook, and a shepherd's bag. The window commanded a view of green meadows, and wooded hills.
The treasurer, addressing the King, said: "In my youth I watched sheep. You, O King, drew me to your court. Here in this room I have daily spent one hour, calling to mind my former humble condition, and repeating the hymns which in earlier days, whilst watching the sheep, I was wont to sing to the praise of my Maker. O, let me return again to my paternal fields and groves, where I was happier than I am at your court!
Hearing these words, the King was angry at the slanderers of his treasurer, embraced the noble man, and besought him still to continue in his service.
A heart content is better far
Than stores of gold and gain;
Io palaoos in vain.
LIII.- THE GOLDEN FISH-HOOK.
A certain prince had a great fondness for fishing. A beautiful rod, with a silken line and a golden book at the end, was presented to him.
Thus equipped the prince went out to the sea shore, cast in his hook, and immediately drew a small fish from the water. He cast in his hook & second time; a large pike caught it, broke the line, and carried away the hook.
Then the prince said; “For my golden hook I have now nothing but a miserable little fish. Bring me an iron fish-book ; for it is bad policy to risk much when but little is to be gained.”
From that time forward it became a proverb, that of all expensive plays, and especially of lotteries, it holds true that :
The player plays with golden hook,
But with his skill and art,
A sad and cheated heart.
THE DEAD MOTHER.
Look there! In that corpse you see the cold, dead body of one of the best and godliest mothers it was ever our privilege to know. She had a son ; he was the stay of her widowhood—so kind, so affectionate, so loving. Some are taken away from “the evil to come;" laid in the lap of mother earth, safe beneath the grave's green sod, they hear not and heed not the storm that rages above. Such was not her happy fortune. She lived to see that son a disgrace, and all the promises of his youth blighted and gone; he was drawn into habits of intemperance. On her knees she pleaded with him ; on her knees she prayed for him. How mysterious are the ways of Providence! She did not live to see him change; and with such thorns in her pillow, such daggers, planted by such a hand in her heart, she could not live; she sank under those griefs, and died of a broken heart. We told him so. With bitter, burning tears he owned it, charging himself with his mother's deathconfessing himself a mother's murderer. Crushed with sorrow, and all alone, he went to see the body. Alone, beside that cold, dead, upreproaching mother, he knelt down and wept out his terrible remorse. After a while he arose. Unfortunately-how unfortunate that a spiritbottle should have been left there !-his eye fell on the old temper. You have seen the iron approach the magnet. Call it spell-call it fascination-call it anything bad-demoniacal—but as the iron is drawn to the magnet, or as a fluttering bird fascinated by the burning eye and glittering skin of the serpent, walks into its envenomed, expanded jaws, so was be drawn to the bottle. Wondering at his delay, they entered the room ; and the bed bolds two bodies-a dead mother and her deaddrunk son-Dr. Guthrie.
APPLES OF GOLD - NO. XII.
It was a very proper answer to him who asked why any man should be delighted with Beauty,--that it was a question which none but a blind man could ask ; since any beautiful object doth so much attract the ght of all men that it is in no man's power who bebolds it not to be pleased. The beauty and splendor of the objects around us, it is always so be observed, are not necessary to their existence, nor to what we commonly deem their usefulness. It is therefore to be regarded as a source of pleasure gratuitously superioduced upon the general nature of the objects themselves, and in this light, as a testimony of the divine Goodness, peculiarly affecting. Beauty is the mark which God sets on virtue. Every natural action is graceful. Every heroic act is also decent, and causes the place and the bystanders to shine. When a noble act is done—perchance in a scene of great natural beauty ; when Leonidas and his three hundred martyrs consume one day in dying, and the sun and moon come each and look at them once in the steep defile of TherDopylæ, when Arnold Winkelried, in the bigh Alps, under the shadow of the avalanche, gathers in his side a sheaf of Austrian spears, to break the line for his comrades : are not these heroes entitled to add the beauty the scene to the beauty of the deed ?
Beauty is spread abroad through earth and sea and sky, and dwells on the face and form, and in the heart of man; and he will shrink from the thought of its being a thing which he or any one else could monopolize. He will deem that the highest and most blessed privilege of his genius is, that it enables him to cherish the widest and fullest sympathy with the hearts and thoughts of his brethren. There is nothing that makes its way more directly to the soul than beauty, which immediately diffuses a secret satisfaction and complacency, giving the finish to anything that is great and uncommon. The first discovery of it strikes the mind with an inward joy, and spreads a cheerfulness and delight through all its faculties. Among the several kinds of beanty in natural objects, the sye takes most delight in colors—such as appear in the heavens at the rising and setting of the sun, and are made up of those different strains of light which show themselves in clouds of various positions. We sowhere meet with a more glorious spectacle. But however attractive the beauty of nature or the productions of art, it does not work upon the imagination with the same warmth and violence, as the beauty that appears in our proper species.
“For sure of all that in this mortal frame,