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THE DAYS THAT ARE GONE.

187

3. They were days when the sword' settled questions of right,
And Falsehood was first to monopolize Might;
When the fighter of battles was always adored,
And the greater the tyrant, the greater the lord;

When the king, who by myriads3 could number his slain,
Was consider'd by far the most worthy to reign;

When the fate of the multitude hung on his breath—

A god in his life, and a saint in his death.

4. They were days when the headsman1 was always prepared— The block ever ready-the ax ever bared;

When a corpse on the gibbet aye3 swung to and fro,
And the fire at the stake never smolder'd too low;
When famine and age made a woman a witch,
To be roasted alive, or be drown'd in a ditch;
When difference of creed was the vilest of crime,
And martyrs' were burn'd half a score at a time.

5. They were days when the gallows stood black in the way, The larger the town, the more plentiful they;

When Law never dream'd it was good to relent,
Or thought it less wisdom to kill than prevent;
When Justice herself, taking Law for her guide,
Was never appeased' till a victim had died;
And the stealer of sheep, and the slayer of men,
Were strung up together-again and again.

6. They were days when the crowd had no freedom of speech, And reading and writing were out of its reach;

When ignorance, stolid and dense, was its doom,
And bigotry swathed" it from cradle to tomb;
But the Present, though clouds o'er her countenance roll,
Has a light in her eyes, and a hope in her soul.
And we are too wise, like the bigots, to mourn
For the darkness of days that shall never return.

C. MACKAY.

'Sword (sord). Mo nop' o lize, to get entire possession of. —3 Myr' iad, ten thousand; any great number.- Heads' man, an executioner; one who cuts off heads.- Aye (à), always; forever.- Smòl' der, burn and smoke without flame or vent.—' Mår' tyrs, witnesses, who sacrificed their lives for the truth.- Gallows (gål' lus).- Ap peased', satisfied.10 Stål' id, stupid; dull; heavy.-"Swathed', wrapped bound.

80. THE JOURNEY OF A DAY A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE.

BIDAH, the son of Abensina, left the caravansary' early in

the morning, and pursued his journey through the plains of Indostǎn'. He was fresh and vigorous with rest; he was animated with hope; he was incited by desire; he walked swiftly forward over the valleys, and saw the hills gradually rising before him. As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the morning song of the bird of paradise, he was fanned by the last flutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by groves of spices; he sometimes contem'plated the towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and sometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the spring all his senses were gratified, and all care was banished from his heart.

2

2. Thus he went on till the sun approached his meridian, and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength; he then looked round about him for some more commodious path. He saw, on his right hand, a grove that seemed to wave its shades as a sign of invitation; he entered it, and found the coolness and verdure irresistibly pleasant. He did not, however, forget whither he was traveling, but found a nărrow way, bordered with flowers, which appeared to have the same direction with the main road, and was pleased, that, by this happy experiment, he had found means to unite pleasure with business, and to gain the reward of diligence without suffering its fatigues. He, therefore, still continued to walk, for a time, without the least remission3 of his ardor, except that he was sometimes tempted to stop by the music of the birds, whom the heat had assembled in the shade, and sometimes amused himself with plucking the flowers that covered the banks on either side, or the fruits that hung upon the branches.

3. At last, the green path began to decline from its first tendency, and to wind among hills and thickets, cooled with fount

1

'Car a vån' sa ry, an inn or public-house, where caravans rest at night. -2 Me rid′i an, mid-day; the highest point. Remission (re mish un), cessation; stopping.

THE JOURNEY OF A DAY.

189

ains, and murmuring with waterfalls. Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to consider whether it were longer safe to forsake the known and common track, but remembering that the heat was now in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved to pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few meanders,' in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and to end at last in the common road.

4. Having thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his pace, though he suspected he was not gaining ground. This uneasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every sensation that might soothe or divert him. He listened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh prospect, he turned aside to every cascade,3 and pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river, that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region, with innumerable circumvolutions. In these amusements the hours passed away unaccounted, his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not toward what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, afraid to go forward, lest he should go wrong, yet conscious that the time of loitering was now past.

5. While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the sky was overspread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a sudden tempest gathered round his head. He was now roused by his danger to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly; he now saw how happiness was lost when ease is consulted; he lamented the unmanly impatience that prompted him to seek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation.

6. He now resolved to do what remained yet in his power, to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some issue, where the wood might open into the plain. He prostrated himself upon the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity,

1 Me ån' ders, turnings.- So lic' i tùde, anxiety; uneasiness of mind.-— Cas cade', waterfall.-- Cir cum vo lù' tion, a turning or rolling round.— De vi à' tion, going out of the way; wandering.- Pên' sive, seriously reflecting; sad and thoughtful.

and pressed on with his saber in his hand; for the leasts of the desert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage and fear, and ravage and expiration:' all the horrors of darkness and solitude surrounded him;—the winds roared in the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills.

7. Thus forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to destruction. At length, not fear but labor began to overcome him; his breath grew short, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down, in resignation to his fate, when he beheld, through the brambles, the glimmer of a taper. He advanced toward the light, and finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The old man set before him such provisions as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah fed with eagerness and gratitude.

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8. When the repast was over, "Tell me,” said the hermit, “by what chance thou hast been brought hither; I have been now twenty years an inhabitant of the wilderness, in which I never saw a man before." Obidah then related the occurrences of his journey, without any concealment or palliation.3

9. "Son," said the hermit, “let the errors and follies, the dāngers and escapes of this day, sink deep into thy heart. Remember, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of expectation; we set forward with spirit and hope, with gayety and with diligence, and travel on awhile in the straight road of piety, toward the mansions of rest. In a short time we remit our fervor, and endeavor to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of obtaining the same end. We then relax our vigor, and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a dis tance, but rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to touch.

10. "We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the shades of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilance sub

3

'Ex pi ra' tion, act of breathing out; death.-2 Tà' per, a small wax candle or light.- Pal li à' tion, excuse. Mit i gå' tion, softening; mak⚫ ing easier or milder.- Vig' i lance, watchfulness.

5

INDIAN SUMMER IN NEW ENGLAND.

191

sides;' we are then willing to inquire whether another advance can not be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to pass through them without losing the road of virtue, which we for awhile keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return. But temptation succeeds temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another; we in time. iose the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual gratifications.

11. "By degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate' object of rǎtional desire. We entangle ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy," till the dark ness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety ob struct our way. We then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, with repentance; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue.

12. "

Happy are they, my son, who shall learn from thy example not to despair, but shall remember, that though the day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is never hopeless, nor sincere endeavors ever unassisted; that the wanderer may at length return, after all his errors; and that he who implores strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose; commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy life."

DR. JOHNSON.

IT

81. INDIAN SUMMER IN NEW ENGLAND.

is now the early advance of autumn. What can be more beautiful or more attractive than this season in New England? The sultry heat of summer has passed away, and a delicious

1 Sub sides', settles down; rests; ceases.- - Sål' ace, console; comfort.—3 Sensual (sån'shu al), lewd; pleasing to the senses.* Ad'equate, worthy; equal.- Låb' y rinths, places full of windings.—® In con' stan cy, unsteadiness. Om nip' o tence, almighty power; God.

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